To Take Back the Child
by Eerie
Summary: Darkfic. A certain boy risks more than his sanity when he returns to the Labyrinth. Slash.
1. The Summoner

**To Take Back the Child**

By Eerie

Warnings: M/M slash, angst, violence, blood, and general evil goodness.

Author's Notes: This tale takes place beyond the ending of Labyrinth. Jareth and his goblins as darker characters than what the movie depicts them as, so the story becomes a sort of sadistically twisted fairy tale. If you dislike the idea of homosexual erotica, please decide whether or not this will bother you before moving on. Thanks. 

Disclaimer: I understand that I'm a deprived fan who makes no claim to the ownership of the characters of Labyrinth. No infringements or profits were considered.

* * *

Chapter One: The Summoner

* * *

Twin crystal orbs spun precariously in the long graceful fingers of their owner, catching the amber luminescence of a sky bidding its first farewells to the passing of the tired sun as they traveled their lazy orbits around one another. When the golden clouds began to darken to a rich shade of crimson, as if bathed in the blood of angels, the crystals halted smoothly, and the hand that contained them flexed tightly before straightening, allowing them to float slowly back to their companions resting in an ancient wooden box lined with emerald velvet. They settled silently and the ornately carved lid of their casket followed suit.

The Goblin King sat in the open window high in the stone castle tower with his head resting lightly against the cool arch that framed the large orifice. His flaxen hair danced softly in the dusk breezes, whispering past his ageless cheekbones set high beneath glittering sapphire eyes that spoke of undeterminable age, young, yet seemingly ancient, like those that have seen countless years come and go like a breath of wind. A certain sadness touched them, it was marked deep in their cerulean clarity, though undetectable to any who had been fortunate enough to steal a look into them long enough to mark their undeniable wisdom. Those eyes now sparkled with the wavering hues of sunset's majesty as they gazed at the slowly crawling clouds that savored the feast of color.

The approaching sound of clumsily scraping claws against the hard stone floor broke the peaceful silence but Jareth did not look away. A brisk breeze laced with icy fingers kissed his face when the footsteps halted below.

"My lord?" a husky voiced asked uncertainly.

Finally tearing his gaze from the sky, Jareth regarded the grizzled old goblin, his oldest servant, with an air of annoyance. His sight discovered a pale chalice carved from bone, beset with dull diamond-shaped jewels, their luster long faded with age. The creature cast its small, clouded eyes to the floor and held the vessel out for his king to take.

Jareth accepted it gingerly, wordlessly, and resumed his somber observation of the sunset. He listened disinterestedly as the scraping feet departed to leave him in solitude, but caught the sound of a limp in their step. His thoughts began to wander to the nature of his keep, the way they did so often anymore, and he lifted the chalice to his lips. Fire burned a slow trail over his tongue and down his throat as he swallowed the green spirits. The memory of the old goblin's faltering steps returned to his mind.

He was an intelligent man; of that there was no question. But if he had to tell one of how long his stronghold had stood upon these lands he could not say with surety. Ages blended with ages, days melted uneventfully into days, yet the minutes seemed to grow more unbearable as the careless blur of time passed him by. It was a long time for sure, compared to certain other worlds. His reign's origin was even more clouded, yet he learned long ago to stop questioning it. Such thoughts only brought him a confusion that closely bordered on madness. It was best to just amuse his whims, which allowed him to shape his own particular eccentricities, and his subjects didn't seem to mind. They were loyal as well as dutiful, though he had wondered if that was merely because there was no one else to betray him for. Perhaps they did care for him as more than just their king for the ties of their blood. Goblins were faithful to their kin.

Another path of fire pleasantly seared his throat before he set the bone chalice beside his thigh. A great sigh escaped his lips as his thoughts unwillingly turned to the mortal young woman he had toyed with not so many years ago. Sarah, a wretched girl, but admirable in the way of courage. She was also pleasant to look on, as mortal youths often were. Jareth immediately recognized her loveliness when she so boldly summoned him to her world. He was taken, that he would not deny.

It was not so very often that the mortals with favors they nearly always later regretted roused him. And always were they consistent in the ways of taking his generosity for granted; he fulfilled wishes. Most of those that he had encountered had been the foolish youths full of rash judgment, just as Sarah proved to be. Yet despite that, there was something magnetic in her blood, something that drew him inexorably to her over the simple prospect of a new game. Perhaps that was why he attempted to dissuade her from taking on his maze, if not from lust.

Her shining hair and innocent eyes filled his memory and Jareth did not resist, but closed his eyes to allow the images more vivid detail. He remembered the masquerade above all else when his thoughts were fond. The shining crystalline beads and flowers adorning the exquisite pearl ball gown draped her fragile body so perfectly; he had congratulated himself for creating such a masterpiece. And the look of fear mixed with such a great curiosity that could not be suppressed as she gazed at him, that was when he could almost believe himself in love with the creature. Her fingers entwining with his as they danced among the grotesque laughing faces had made him forget of his aching loneliness, if for just a moment. It never lasted.

The chalice was taken by a sudden sweeping gesture and flung with such force against the tower floor that it shattered. Bits of splintered bone and cracked jewels clattered loudly as they splayed in all directions, spilling the bright green contents. Absinthe pooled into the wide cracks of the floor.

Jareth glared at the sky, anger boiling hotter than the spirits in his throat. How could he allow himself to be taken by such a foolish mortal? She had refused him when he blindly offered her his very soul, traded his pledge of eternal service and loyalty for a mere mewling baby. It was a rare thing for him to feel regret, and the degree to which she placed it in him was unforgivable. But he was powerless. Revenge was not a notion unfamiliar to him, though his use of it was for sport, nothing of a serious nature. Yet if he had the power to exact upon her the pain she had willingly caused him, he would take it with certain rapture. However, the veil between his world and that of the mortals was impenetrable without the key, a mere string of words he was helpless to resist when uttered. She would never let them pass her lips again.

Blue eyes closed in exasperation. He ran a hand back through his hair, allowing the evening air to cool his enflamed skin. His long fingers worked the buttons of his ivory silk shirt until it lay open to the delicate winds before toying with the pendent around his neck that mirrored the last rays of day in their silver angles. He dropped it just as quickly, wishing he could simply rip it free from his neck. But experience had long ago taught him that attempting such a thing was not wise.

The taut muscles of the Goblin King's chest rose and fell more calmly, but the infernal spite he felt remained. He heard her say the words that banished him once again, echoing sharply in his mind. She had been the only one to refuse his seduction and win the challenge of the Labyrinth as well. And what did she do it for? For a mere child!

Jareth remembered the babe as well. He didn't have the time to become attached to the boy, but would have preferred to keep them both. If not to prove his powers, then certainly to dispel his boredom. Visions of playing a father figure did not suit him well, which was why he had wanted to keep Sarah in his grasp, along with his burning desire to make her wholly his own. That kind of game was the rarest of all. He had found in it such delight incomparable to any mind manipulation he could conjure, even though the ones that he had ensnared in the past grew tedious in time. In the end, he had to dispose of them, for he could not tolerate boredom if given the choice and power to change the circumstances.

That led to another pastime he thoroughly enjoyed if he was so inclined to take the favorite sport away from the goblins. He sympathized with their love of plain torture, but the simple look of sheer terror that seized the eyes of his former interests was the sweetest sight of all. It didn't take him long to conclude that screams of unendurable pain and those of pleasure were very similar.

Now he was longing to hear that particular anguish, for his rage was given nothing to sate itself. The goblins seemed to know when he was in such a mood and quietly made themselves like shadows. It was probably the wisest thing to do, though he had no particular interest in their suffering, for at times he would slip into such a violent rage without regard to the lives of those around him. He wasn't at that point just yet.

Jareth pushed himself from the window ledge and stalked to his throne, crunching bits of bone beneath his black boots. He descended heavily, throwing his legs over the side of the plain seat carelessly. Propping his chin in the heel of his hand, he gazed stonily at the remains of his favorite chalice.

"Such foolishness," he muttered absently. From somewhere in the corner of his mind appeared the realization of just that and he soon found himself laughing with utter disdain. Its bitter sound resonated from the bare walls.

The Goblin Lord gradually ceased his laughter and breathed deeply, entertaining thoughts of how he would go about creating a real revenge worthy of a king. He came up with various visions, the most horrific of which brought a smile to his lips. For several long moments he amused himself in this manner until a soft knock was heard at the doorway. Jareth looked up, startled.

"Come in," he called.

The wizened goblin hobbled inside reluctantly, his hands wringing together nervously.

"What is it?" Jareth snapped.

The wretched creature dropped his hands behind his back and stood at attention, keeping his eyes averted for fear of his master's wrath. "My lord, the goblins are in a frenzy. They say that someone from the mortal world is about to speak the summoning words."

"You mock me," the reclining man said lowly, dangerously.

"No, my lord! I live to serve only you and your interests. I sensed it too," the old goblin pleaded.

"Well, then we must go, mustn't we?" Jareth rose and buttoned his shirt. "What is the mortal's wish?"

The hunched goblin bit his haggard lip and unconsciously toyed with his stubby fingers again.

"Speak up!" Jareth roared impatiently.

Jumping in fright, the goblin managed to brave a look directly into his master's eyes before disclosing what had been demanded of him. "The mortal wishes itself here. By will."

Jareth stopped his preparations to stare in at his long-time servant and repeated what he may have mistaken. "Wishes itself here?"

A very rare occurrence, yes, but not impossible. Most of the wishes he was sent to grant did not involve one's self being transported to his world. Those that had even a fraction of the knowledge of his world's existence surely knew that when one came here, one did not return. They would wish for an easy solution to something they had no patience in dealing with, and these things were often too petty to speak of in Jareth's mind. But he would take them all the same, delighting in the irony when the wisher begged for a reversal in their hasty decision once he or she saw it come true. And so they were faced with the Labyrinth as a test to regain what was lost, doomed to fail, and thus his to keep. He wondered for what reasons this particular human would be foolish enough to willingly doom itself.

He snatched up the great black mantle lying on the throne and threw it about his shoulders before fastening it at his neck. Perhaps, like those few others, the creature has a death wish, he thought, and could find absolutely no reason to not fulfill such a longing. His stride was steady as he neared the doorway.

The ancient goblin bowed and watched him pass, wondering uselessly what was on his master's mind. It agreed that a strange wish was being brewed and the creature was just as eager as the lot of them to learn more. He quickly followed in the Goblin King's wake down the stairs and into the common room.

The goblins trained for traveling between worlds stood ready as their master entered, his generous mantle flowing like a great set of membranous wings.

"The words have been spoken, master. Shall we go?" one of the younger goblins inquired, baring a set of needle-like teeth in its grin.

"Well, there is no choice is there? Besides, it would be rude to leave a request of our presence ignored," the man said and smiled back in wicked humor.

Lifting his hands, the Goblin King traced a few symbols into the air and a transparent ripple appeared like a thin floating sheet of water before him. The five goblins darted eagerly into the portal, driven by the prospects of fresh blood. Jareth closed his eyes and shifted to his snow-white owl's form before gliding gracefully through the veil adjoining the two worlds.

The shock of crossing the separating void was nauseating to the point of vertigo, but did not last long, and Jareth recovered quickly. He was borne high by his downy wings and hovered there until he could grasp the situation below him. The goblins were standing around a body lying sprawled out on the floor of a somewhat cramped and ill-lit room. A storybook laid close, its well-worn pages and spine revealing it to be a favorite. They looked up at him, not knowing what to do.

"It's unconscious, my lord," one spoke. "What should we do with it?"

"Can we eat it?" another dared.

The Goblin King descended and shifted to his natural body and the goblins parted to allow him a better view of the summoner. Jareth reopened his eyes and stepped forward, ignoring the insolence of the question in favor of his new curiosity.

The creature was a young man and was, indeed, out of his senses. He looked to be in his late teens or early twenties, with light blond hair lying haphazardly about his head in long strands. The youth's face wore a look of calm slumber, oblivious to the danger that he may have provoked. The Goblin King began to wonder if some mistake had been made just before he caught something unusual issuing from the youth, like subtle electricity. It was excruciatingly familiar, yet he could not place it. The child's face also had a hint of familiarity, but its beauty was too distracting to ponder such things.

Jareth gave the body a closer inspection to see whether or not the youth was alive at all. A steady shallow breathing answered him. The entirety of the scene was so unusual that the Goblin King could not resist his gnawing inquisitiveness. It wasn't often that he passed up something strange. Besides, the kid looked rather interesting.

"Take him," he commanded, "but leave him untouched. Understood?" With that, the Goblin King transformed once again and reentered the shimmering breach.

The creatures nodded their understanding before turning their attention back to the youth.

"Shame, he looks tasty. Couldn't he spare just a little piece to try?" a taller goblin muttered hopefully.

"Jareth will have our heads," another answered and began the work of lifting the new burden.

The others joined him, no longer of the heart to voice their dismay. They knew the words to be true, and that would just be the beginning. The rippling gateway accepted them and sealed quickly as the last goblin hobbled through.

* * *

The moon was lingering at the crest of the mountain range in the distance, making their sharp twisted peaks glow eerily. Jareth paced back and forth in his chambers, growing increasingly desperate for something to happen.

The goblins were charged with the task of seeing to the summoner's health until the mortal was well enough to be questioned. It was his form of punishment for the insolence they had displayed earlier, for they were accustomed to and enjoyed doing quite the opposite of healing. But none would dare to question his orders. The dismayed complaints were uttered in carefully hushed voices once the Goblin Lord had taken his leave.

Now the king was leaning out the window to inhale the fresh night air deeply, reveling in the glory of the velvety darkness filled with breezes as soft as whispers from pixie wings. The moon rose onward, slowly, casting the intricate angles of his maze in sublime luminescence. Twilight was his favorite time; it made him feel as though he were much younger than his appearance deceived him to be. The stars glimmered in a myriad of colors overhead and all was quiet. Yet his long fingernails soon began to tap the stone.

Who was the youth? Why had he seemed the slightest bit familiar? The child had the book with the power to summon the goblins and it looked as though the thing had not been newly broken. The Goblin King's agitation was about to become unbearable when a soft rapping at his door rescued his nerves.

Jareth strode briskly to answer the caller and pulled the heavy wooden door open as if it weighed nothing at all.

"What is it?" he asked. "Is the child awake?"

"My lord, it is," the heavy-set brute donning a helmet balanced with curving horns of dirty white replied. "We wait for your leave."

"Excellent. You may go." The tall man watched the creature bumble down the stairs before turning back to his room. His eyes roved the night sky once more before he snapped his fingers and induced a transformation.

He examined himself in a full-length mirror, deciding that the change was well suited. His loose white silk shirt and tan breeches were now garments of fine, close-fitting, black silk with tiny flecks of silver glitter embedded in their delicate fibers. His boots reached his knees, their silver rows of sharp buckles complimenting the subtleness of the glimmer in his clothing. Turning down the claw-like collar that matched the coat's cuffs, Jareth cocked his head, pondering what else he needed for his current ensemble. A smirk tugged the corner of his pale lips as he gazed into his upturned palm, a satin black ribbon materializing from his skin to rest there. With a few simple movements, the Goblin King tied the length of his blond hair back, approving of his choice. He considered his great vanity an unsurpassable art form.

The Goblin King descended the stairs from his chambers and made his way through the darkened corridors toward the prison. The scarce candles lighting his path flickered to green and dipped low at his approach and resumed their steady vigil at his passing. He weaved down several more cases before the heavy cell door stamped with iron bars was before him. The two armored sentries at either side of it saluted him before one exposed the great ring of rusty skeleton keys to unlock the door. It opened with a shrill creak and Jareth bent low to step inside.

The youth was in a daze and slumped against the wall, his thin wrists bound by steel cuffs that connected to the windowless wall by thick chains. His chin rested weakly against his chest and his hair hung in damp tendrils over his face. The wretched sight of him sent Jareth into a rage. He rounded on the sentries.

"What is this?! I told you to heal him, not to treat him like a dog! Unchain him," he snapped.

The guards jumped into immediate action. Tiny keys on the great rings were fumbled before the fitting one was found and used to unlatch the unbreakable restraints.

"Honestly, can't I trust you to do anything right? It's a wonder I allow you to keep all your limbs intact." The Goblin King stepped forward and took the youth into his arms, glaring at the prison guards. He stood and exited the stifling cellar, furious that he would have to take matters into his own hands.

The child was barely conscious and all but completely unconcerned with his surroundings as Jareth carried him back toward his own rooms. A few stray goblins in the spacious corridors backed against the walls and bowed their heads until their king passed, wondering at the strange newcomer. They eyed one another curiously but said nothing.

The Goblin King ascended the final flight of steps and entered his room, silently commanding the candles to life. The room was instantly bathed in soft golden light as the master of the Labyrinth laid his caller upon his own bed. Against the deep crimson of its sheets, the youth looked even paler than Jareth had thought. Pressing the back of his hand to the young man's forehead was all he needed to realize that the creature carried a fever.

The king stood straight and gazed down indecisively at the mortal left to his mercy. The finely carved features of the youth's face cast smooth shadows over his countenance from the dancing flames. His hair was as soft, light, and long as Jareth's, though thicker and evenly cut. The Goblin King's gaze softened as it drank in the mortal's beauty. Without so much a warning, those pale eyelids that feigned sleep slowly opened.

Jareth held his breath as he met the icy blue eyes. And it was then that he realized the enormity of his chance. He could never forget such eyes that looked so much like his own. Only now they were older and far lovelier for the depth of their pain and sadness. For a long moment they stared at one another, the Goblin King in disbelief. He wondered if he had slipped into some vivid dream of an altered past. But his lips spoke without his thoughts to provoke them.

"I know you."

The youth trembled, a glimmer of fear written in his eyes. He spoke hesitantly, but as if to himself. "No, this is a dream."

Jareth stepped closer and the fear increased.

"How is it you've come back to me? Tell me why you've summoned me," the king demanded, becoming excited. His lips drew back in a greatly amused smile.

"I . . . I was dreaming. Wasn't I?" the young man said, fighting to remember.

"How rare this night is. I never imagined I'd see you again, my goblin babe."

To be continued . . .

* * *


	2. A Celebration

To Take Back the Child  
  
* By Eerie *  
  
*~*~*~*~* Chapter Two *~*~*~*~*  
  
Seconds spiraled into eternity and still their eyes remained locked in a sort of peculiar battle of wits. Jareth's ivory teeth glittered malignantly in the glow of the cool room as he gazed in adoration at the trapped doe look in the other's eyes. The candles sputtered and smoked before he spoke again.  
  
"You've grown quite well."  
  
"How do you know me?" the youth asked and drew his brows close in confusion. His blue eyes shimmered with tears born of fear.  
  
"My dear boy, how could I forget one who was very near to becoming my own?" the Goblin King asked and reached a slender hand to turn the child's face fully into the light, unhindered by shadows, by the chin. "They called you Toby, didn't they? I still think Jareth suits you better."  
  
"Jareth?" The faint dawning of realization seemed to seep into the mortal's countenance as he was forced to face his admirer. Or perhaps his scrutinizer.  
  
Jareth's face lit up. "Ah, you remember now do you?" His long-nailed hand released his captive and he stepped back.  
  
Toby's eyes followed him uncertainly as he spoke in a matching voice, "The book. Yes . . . I think I remember. I was reading it before I fell asleep."  
  
The youth exhaled as if he had held his breath from the moment he first opened his eyes to find he was no longer in the sanctity of his own room. Suddenly, his eyes shut and a fine sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead as he strained in concentration.  
  
"Wake up, Toby; wake up," he whispered earnestly.  
  
With the grace of a feline pouncing upon its prey, the Goblin Lord leapt on the bed and slammed his hands down on either side of Toby's head, shocking the youth's lids back open and his neck stiff like a surprised mouse. Jareth's lean body emanated the depths of its power as it hovered over the reclining one. His eyes narrowed darkly.  
  
"That's the greetings I get after all these years? Begging for escape?" He leaned in closer and a shadow fell into the hollows of his face. "Well let me tell you, child, this is no dream you've unwittingly stumbled into," he paused to let the weight of his revelation sink in. "I'll be most disappointed if you tell me that you simply mumbled those damnable words in your sleep."  
  
Toby was paralyzed with terror yet unable to tear his gaze from the deep shadow that concealed the Goblin King's eyes. The strange scents of newly decaying jasmine and roses lingered over him like an enchantment from the body of the man oppressing him.  
  
"Well?" Jareth provoked.  
  
"Please, I don't understand. I've never seen you before in my life," Toby pleaded and shook his head, on the verge of tears.  
  
The Goblin King drew away fluidly to sit on his haunches over the youth's legs. The shadow lifted from his pale face just as the candlelight dimmed considerably, like a subtle warning of impending danger.  
  
He stared incredulously at the boy. "She didn't tell you," he said so softly that Toby barely heard him.  
  
Suddenly Jareth threw his head back and convulsed in wretched laughter. The flames on every wall sizzled and changed hue, casting the room in sickly green, making the Goblin Lord appear like a terrible emission from the seething depths of the night. His throaty laughter did not last long, and soon melted into a sort of deep feral growling. He spun from the bed and stalked to the window, resting his hands wide apart on the sill and staring out as if the boy was no longer there.  
  
Toby watched in confusion as Jareth occupied himself with the scenery outside, an occasional bitter chuckle escaping the tall man's lips. Slowly, with painstaking care, the youth sat up and slid from the massive bed, stars of dizziness blurring his sight. He wavered momentarily and caught a tall wooden bedpost to steady himself, looking to see that the dark man's back was still turned to him. Cautiously, once his vision had cleared, he edged toward the door, hoping that his weakness would not cause him to stumble. The exit drew closer with each step and he eyed it longingly. The door looked heavy and old, and would surely give him away once opened. He braced himself, ready to spend the remainder of his strength to pull it ajar and bolt. His hand trembled as it reached for the iron handle.  
  
Instead of the sensation of cold metal in his palm came a sudden jarring from behind as inhumanly strong arms crossed over his chest and yanked him back with toppling force, ripping the breath from his lungs. His jaw dropped to cry his astonishment but an icy hand stopped that intention as it clamped uncomfortably tight over his mouth. Toby's back landed hard against the Goblin King's chest and he was dismayed to find that he was held impossibly firm. The sweet scent of dead flowers, intoxicating to the point of nauseating, filled his senses until it consumed him. His pupils dilated with fear when a warm breath swirled teasingly over his left ear.  
  
"You seem to think that you can escape, poor child. Really, that's very rude of you; after all, you only just arrived. You would have gone without a word?" The whisper was dark and rich as unsweetened chocolate, sending electric tremors up Toby's spine.  
  
The warm breath moved away slowly and returned to pay homage to his other ear, hotter this time. "And just when the fun was about to begin."  
  
Jareth smiled in satisfaction when a tear kissed his restraining hand. Sliding the other up Toby's throat, he stopped and squeezed the trembling jaw in what he knew to be a painful force. A heartbeat so urgent that it nearly felt as though it would break from the other's chest greeted him in return; he could feel it quicken even through the child's back, pulsing like a rapid drum against his fingertips. The sensation made his blood heat.  
  
"Your timing is truly exceptional. I was becoming intolerably bored," the Goblin King stated and rested his chin on the crown of Toby's head. His grip on the boy's jaw loosened and he scraped his sharp nails along the soft flesh of his captive's throat, leaving dull red trails in their wake. He paused to press more firmly against the pulse that hammered through delicate veins.  
  
The body in his arms suddenly went heavily limp and would have fallen to the floor if not for Jareth's closeness. The Goblin King gathered the unconscious summoner up like a ragdoll, thoroughly disappointed that his game had to end so abruptly. The screaming he had so desired would have to wait.  
  
A cold breeze blew in through the window as he carried Toby back to rest upon his generous bed. Any trace of blood within the child's body was impossible to detect as he was laid out. Jareth stood and donned the look of one contemplating a piece of art as his eyes roved the deathly pale intruder. It was quickly diminished, however, when he pinpointed exactly where in that face laid bearings of the likeness of the young man's sister. It was mingled in the youth's marvelously full lips, the shapely curve of his chin, even in his soft hairline. Jareth sneered in contempt when he saw them, but more from the fact that he still found them irresistible than from spite.  
  
He drew a bit closer and silently bade the windows closed to ease the mortal's shivers. He could not do much if the young man was deliriously ill. It might be worth it to allow the creature to revive, he thought. The game was so much more enjoyable when the players' senses and minds were fully able to comprehend its attributes. But the stakes had yet to be set.  
  
Tilting his head to the side, Jareth pondered further on this. Perhaps, not entirely for the sake of relieving his current state of insipidity, he could find some use in the boy. Broken visions of his earlier fantasies fueled from past defeat and unfulfilled gratification provoked his lips to curve. Perhaps.  
  
Turning his back theatrically, Jareth commanded the candles to extinguish themselves with a simple snap of his fingers before leaving the room, and the boy, to dark silence.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Heavy golden smog lingered low over the Labyrinth when the sun rose. The goblins were snoring from all corners of the common room, scattered about like the blankets and various articles of clothing they used for meager comforts. Jareth waded through them quietly as he approached the staircase leading to his quarters. He had not slept at all the night before, but found himself wandering about the castle like a madman when not entertaining himself with the goblins that were accustomed to staying awake until dawn. He had threaded an intricate path through the room of stairs, trying to lose himself in the tangle of steps without much success. He'd traveled them too many times to forget where each one lead.  
  
The sunlight seemed a welcome prospect to him as he mounted the stairwell, eager to see if it had roused the youth taking up his bed. He donned white velvet this day with a matching cloak of heavy shimmering chiffon whose hem was irregular with various depths of jagged tears that followed fluidly up the stone steps, as if it had been made from the likeness of melting winter icicles. His soft leather boots, crafted from a rare mongrel breed of albino beast that could only be compared in close proximity to the thick- horned roe deer of the mortal world, carried him softly up the empty tunnel.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
~ Toby's body ached with weariness, heavy as if his muscles had transformed to lead, when he opened his eyes. The scratchy harsh sounds of laughter from various throats that seemed so far away now bounced clearly from the cold walls that encompassed him with whatever creatures that made the noise. It was very dim and his eyes strained to see, to make out a shape that would ease or intensify his panic. Movement to his side.  
  
He turned his head in a defensive gesture, finding that he could barely hold it steady. His eyes quickly adjusted to the ill light of the place and, to his horror, found that it was practically seething with small hairy bodies about the size of his own. A face emerged from the crowd of dancing creatures and smiled monstrously at him, its teeth crooked and spaced widely apart in a mouth too large for its head. Worse still, it reached out and fondled his hair, the pungent bitter stench of its sweat clinging to the air around it nearly making him gag.  
  
Then he was lifted, higher and higher until the floor seemed miles away, before being settled into a pair of strong arms. The smell of his captor was unlike the terrible creatures skittering to and fro below him, spilling their glasses of questionable content over their feet in oblivious frenzy. No, the arms holding him smelled sweet and faintly musty, like wilted flowers.  
  
He allowed his neck to collapse and his head fell into the nook of the sweetly scented being's arm. And his eyes could not help but drift. The smile that greeted him was no different from those of the monsters in nature, though far easier to look upon. But the eyes, the eyes pulled him in the way a snake paralyzes its victims and he was lost in their frighteningly endless depths when he heard the distant, desperate beckoning of his sister. ~  
  
Toby awoke with a shudder and slid the back of his hand over his damp forehead. For a moment he lay in the afterglow of the vivid nightmare, thankful that it was not reality. He had had the dream before on many occasions; each time he had wakened ill and confused, as if he had just lived some aspect of the dream itself. But somehow this time was different. It was as though the intensity of it had been magnified threefold and his consciousness was there every moment.  
  
The young man sat up, his clothes sticking to his body uncomfortably from sweat. His fever seemed less the fire that it was the day before and he was able to think more clearly when he realized that he was still not in his own room. His eyes fell downward first. The bed he lay in was larger than any he had ever seen, draped in luxurious ruby sheets and fine blanket. Its massive black wood posts stood like spears that nearly touched the high ceiling above. Spirals and loose knots were carved shallowly into them in undeterminable patterns.  
  
Blue eyes traveled the things surrounding the mysterious resting place. Two high-backed chairs upholstered in thick black velvet and studded with gold furniture pins sat in the corner near the tremendous window. Before them was a redwood table with short legs that swooped and narrowed at end like upturned falcon claws. The rug beneath them was of exotically woven threads in deep reds, muted grays, and blacks. The floor itself was the same gray stone as the walls of the room, though it was difficult to say what kind. It sparkled as if made from glittery sand, giving the room a surreal quality. A massive dark mirror framed in golden whorls hung upon the wall over the chairs between two matching candelabras filled with blood red candles, whose wax descended into hardened spikes from past burnings. On the other side of the window was an angled bookcase that filled the space between and almost touched where the door was on the wall before him. Staggering amounts of books adorned its shelves, some piled on the tops of the others.  
  
Toby hadn't realized that his mouth was hanging open in awe. The room was exquisitely beautiful.  
  
Against the opposite wall rested another mirror similar to its companion, only it touched the floor. Next to it, a large black wardrobe with two matching skeleton hands clasped together at the front for its latch. Toby's eyes followed the great doors upward and saw the great skull resting like a sentry on the wardrobe's top, its eyes set with rubies that seemed to burn with life. The sight of it reminded him of his fear and prone state and he turned his head, praying that he still lay in the outskirts of his dream.  
  
Just then, the door whispered open. He would not have noticed if he hadn't seen the flash of white that stood out from its surroundings like a gull in a black sea. A certain creeping dread edged up his spine as his head lifted to behold the one wearing the shining garments. The journey was slow, but his eyes finally came to rest upon the striking face he instantly recognized as that from his dream. He could no longer move. His head was a cyclone of scattered puzzle pieces. There was something more there, if only he could place it.  
  
Jareth closed the door behind him and stopped just at its threshold, seeing his summoner awake and none too expecting. The boy was staring at him in something like tortured frustration. The Goblin King's gaze flickered between Toby's eyes as if reading a fascinating book. Then a smile graced his lips.  
  
"Realized something?" he asked and crossed his arms. "Please share; it's not nice to keep one in suspense."  
  
"So it was real all this time. Why would she lie to me?" Toby said softly, caught in the king's hypnotizing observation.  
  
Jareth unfolded his arms and walked slowly toward the bed. He sat weightlessly at its edge, never breaking his gaze. There was something indignant shining in that look.  
  
"She was a wicked girl. And wicked girls love to tell lies to their innocent brothers," he said and leaned forward. "What did she tell you, Jareth?"  
  
Toby knit his brows in confusion at being addressed by that name and quickly forgot the insult directed at his sibling. But he continued, not wanting to provoke the man's anger. "It was the book. The storybook. She never spoke of it as anything more. But . . . I always felt there was something more anyway."  
  
Jareth's penetrating look softened and he soothed his hand over the young man's cheek. Memories of the evening before must have returned like a lance, for Toby flinched away from his hand as if it were poisoned. Jareth yielded.  
  
"Are you still unwell? Come, you'll want something to drink surely." The Goblin Lord stood and held a long arm out in expectancy. Seeing the youth's uncertainty, he added with the slightest hint of a spell, "You've been dreaming, child; you've nothing to fear now. Especially since a proper welcoming party is in order." He smiled broadly.  
  
Toby pushed himself from the bed and stood. "No, I must go back soon. There's been a mistake."  
  
Jareth ignored him and instead roved the youth's state of disarray. "But this won't do at all." He thrust his hand out as if to strike the boy's face and was rewarded with a wince. But his hand stopped there and wavered down the length of Toby's stature.  
  
The youth looked down, amazed to find his street clothes replaced by the finest garments he had ever seen upon himself. Lightweight velvet breeches of deep jet hugged his hips flatteringly below a loose white shirt with flared cuffs. Soft leather boots of even deeper onyx touched just below his knees and fit with surprising comfort. His long blond hair was combed back into a low ponytail with two strands let free in the front. His mouth opened in bewilderment as he studied himself.  
  
Jareth tilted his head to the side, greatly admiring his work. "Now, that's more like it. Shall we then?"  
  
Of course, Toby had no choice but to follow the Goblin King through the door and into the heart of the castle. As they walked down the steps, Jareth stole a glance at the fine young man at his side, seeing the soft traces of Sarah's features once again. He suddenly ached to devour that face, in more ways than one, but restrained the urge at such an inappropriate time. That in itself was an essential part of the game.  
  
A few stray goblins were stretching their sleep-bound muscles when the pair descended the stairs. They jumped up and bowed respectfully to Jareth, but not without eyeing the newcomer suspiciously.  
  
The Goblin Lord looked about the room of snoring creatures with annoyance. With an upraised hand he summoned a great peal of thunder that shook the foundations of the entire castle. The snoring immediately ceased and the goblins were on their feet, looking at one another with alarm.  
  
"My minions! I bid you welcome our guest back after many long years. I trust you've not forgotten my goblin babe?" Jareth called out and waited for a general agreement around the room to meet his expectations.  
  
The creatures all nodded in animated remembrance of the grown child at one another and to their king and his "guest", though only half of it was genuine.  
  
Jareth smirked and placed an arm around Toby's shoulders, drawing him closer. "Shall we celebrate his pleasantly unexpected arrival?"  
  
The word ignited a widespread roar of approval. Goblins jumped up and began to scatter in search of various items worthy of a great celebration. They clattered back and forth with large barrels, mugs, and loudly squawking black chickens.  
  
Toby watched in mute horror as he saw the creatures from his nightmare come to life. Yet Jareth must have sensed it, for he moved his hand from the youth's shoulder and replaced it on the side of his head. Toby felt the Goblin Lord press his forehead to the other side, against his own temple.  
  
"You came here among the goblins as a defenseless baby and went away perfectly unharmed. What could you possibly fear now that you are a man?" the king whispered sultrily in his ear. "And in my favor."  
  
Toby listened to the words with heart. They seemed to make sense to him, for surely he could hardly comprehend anything but terror in such surroundings as a simple baby. Perhaps there really was nothing to fear. It was all very strange, but also very different from the mundane world so full of monotonous routine that he could scarcely afford to miss it. He watched the creatures' determined duties for his special honor and felt a small smile hug his lips.  
  
Jareth grinned in satisfaction when he saw it and dropped his hand from the boy's head. His attentions joined the mortal's as the first round of ale began to flow among the goblins. Two chalices were promptly brought to them and Jareth gently tapped his against Toby's.  
  
"To a better life," he said.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Nightfall was descending before Toby realized it. Several of the goblins had passed out on their backs from drinking too much liquor, their bellies swollen and tongues hanging grotesquely from open mouths. He too had drunk more than he had initially desired, but the courage and forgetfulness it instilled within his mind were much appreciated and he even found himself having fun with the lively goblins. They were filthy and crude, but had the talent for sustaining a gathering. Most of this was due to their habit of drinking a good deal of ale.  
  
Jareth was softly weaving a song to which a group of goblins accompanied with drums, sticks, and a crooked flute that made a surprisingly fluid sound. Toby reclined on a pile of blankets in the center of the grooved circle in the floor, trying not to return the man's intent gaze as he sang. The Goblin King's voice was exquisite and low, its echo like a chorus from the walls. Toby allowed the alcohol to worm a pleasantly warm path through his veins as he slipped his lids closed. But whenever he opened them, Jareth's eyes were on him, gazing with a strange sort of fascination. They tried to pull him in the way a spider captures an insect, but Toby would look away before the spell could be completed.  
  
The song ended and the goblins all thumped whatever was in hand against the floor in appreciation, laughing gruffly. Jareth stood and bowed deeply, baring his teeth in a fantastic smile. He strode down the shallow steps and stood before Toby, his smile transformed to a smirk.  
  
"Have I told you how marvelous you look in my clothes, Jareth?" the king asked.  
  
Toby looked up and fought to suppress a blush of embarrassment.  
  
After a moment the Goblin King said more seriously, "You haven't danced with me yet tonight."  
  
"With you?" Toby said dumbly. His blush couldn't be held back any more.  
  
Jareth offered the youth his hand. "Come, don't insult your gracious host."  
  
Toby took the outstretched hand to stand and was immediately pulled into Jareth's firm body before he could breathe. The Goblin King circled an arm around the small of the youth's back and forced their fingers to mesh as he led them back to the main floor. The tall man dressed in pure white began to croon once again, a different song in a different language, yet Toby could hear a note of tragedy in the melody.  
  
Now he had no choice but to fall into those blue eyes of the Goblin Lord as they traveled the room in slow tight circles. The sounds of the goblins faded and all that the young man could hear was Jareth's soothing voice caressing his ears with its ancient lullaby. Soon the room itself followed, and Toby believed that they were the only two people in the entire universe.  
  
The thought of being so close to Jareth, much less dancing with him, had disturbed Toby. He had never felt so strangely attracted to someone of his own gender, though Jareth seemed to defy those limits somehow. Perhaps his will was no longer under his control. The Goblin King had a way about him that seemed to acquire anything it desired. But now that no longer mattered. He was hopelessly entangled in the web.  
  
Jareth continued his seduction upon the mortal, gently taking over the youth's senses. The wine made it so much simpler, of that much did the humans have in common on a wide basis. And he was no longer in the mood to bide his time. Though he had silently decided to put Toby in his right mind before unleashing upon him certain terrors, he could not resist the way the mortal looked this night. And it had been so long, so infernally long. He could spare just one night.  
  
The haunting song faded from Jareth's lips and they simply stared at one another. It was Toby that broke the silence.  
  
"Who are you?" he whispered in earnest longing, entranced.  
  
Jareth's face revealed no emotion as he replied, "I can illustrate such things better than they are told."  
  
He led the youth up the stairs as smoothly as if they had floated and flames of silver-blue were birthed in every candelabrum upon their entrance into the lavishly furnished room. The Goblin King closed the heavy door upon the outside world and fixed his attention on the object of his whims. Lifting his slender hands, Jareth worked at the shining cloak fastened at his neck and let it drop to the floor. He then slid them slowly under the youth's ears and up over the back of his head before pulling the ribbon out that bound such gloriously soft hair. The silk strand fell unheeded to the floor as Jareth closed the remaining distance, rewarding his lips with the taste they longed to know.  
  
From somewhere in the back of Toby's mind came a faint warning bell, a weak insistence that he should fight and escape. But whatever sorcery Jareth had used to entrap him in complete and utter seduction had worked too masterfully. His mouth yielded to the Goblin Lord's without resistance.  
  
Jareth wound his hands into the mortal's thick blond hair and pressed their bodies so close not a sliver of light could fall between them. His tongue found the other's and slid about it sensuously. A game though it may have been, his lust could no longer be tamed when he heard a low groan escape Toby's throat. Perhaps he would get his screaming sooner than he thought.  
  
The Goblin King gently forced the youth toward the bed, his hands untying the loose white shirt at his fingertips all the while. When the antique of his destination stopped them, Jareth pushed the boy onto his back, their lips only breaking as he lifted the treacherous shirt over the boy's head before casting it carelessly to the floor, his fingers finding new distraction in the wondrously hairless chest it had contained. Their mouths reclaimed one another, hunger and passion steadily rising.  
  
After a particularly deep swoop of his tongue, Jareth withdrew and replaced it on the youth's fragile neck. A hot trail of saliva was left from his deliberately slow ministration before a collarbone stopped him. He came back up the neglected side of Toby's throat with his sharp teeth, relishing in the mortal tremor they induced.  
  
The youth was thoroughly aroused at this point, and from what Jareth could tell from it, he would not be disappointed. He ground his hips into those below him and purred in the human's ear, delighting in the faint trace of musk already dancing in the air.  
  
After sliding his tongue into that ear, Jareth whispered darkly, "Welcome home."  
  
Toby rolled his head to the side and groaned; submissively easing his legs apart to more comfortably accommodate his seducer. The latter was appreciative of this gesture and showed it by working the simple fastenings of the boy's breeches open. He sat up to draw the tall boots from the youth's feet before sliding the suddenly-too-tight pants from the sculpted legs that held them on. When the mortal lay completely prone beneath him, Jareth allowed himself a moment to admire the great work of art of whose curves and angles he should have been able to predict. For surely Sarah's body would have been just as fine as her male counterpart's.  
  
The Goblin Lord swept his own upper garments to join the heap on the floor, recalling that if she hadn't had the marvelous luck to conquer him, he could very well be having them both right now. The thought inspired a fresh wave of molten lust in his body tinged with anger. His hands tore the fastenings of his pants open with certain ferocity and he discarded them quickly, suddenly annoyed that he had kept them on this long.  
  
Toby stared up at him with heavily lidded eyes that spoke of lust and fearful awe alike. Jareth wasted no more time and descended on him fully, ravaging his lips like an animal. The youth squirmed when his lower lip broke and a trail of blood emerged, taken up with rapture of the dominating man's tongue in a complimentary savory manner. Their hardened sexes slid together in hot friction and Jareth's blood seemed to blaze in his veins. He couldn't wait much longer.  
  
Pulling away, he resumed his attention on the youth's neck and chest, descending until it finally found the object it sought. Toby was hot as soon as his mouth touched him, and he stroked the young man's arousal with his serpent-like tongue. The mortal cried out in agonizing pleasure, arching his back as his victor worked him higher. It wouldn't take long for that searing heat to demanding release.  
  
Jareth brought on that final release with one final masterful stroke of his tongue, spending just a moment to imbed the taste in his immortal memory. He lifted his head and returned to Toby's mouth, forcing him to share in the sweet memory as his hand slid firmly to rescue the wetness left behind. Fingers fell lower with their spoils, edging into the tight heat that he would fully claim all too soon.  
  
Toby jerked in resistance against him but Jareth pinned him tight, breathing raggedly into the youth's ear. The body beneath him trembled with searing heat and fear but he would no longer be merciful. His fingers conjured maddeningly glorious images in his mind as Jareth prepared his summoner's body. The little whimpers of pain on the boy's lips were absolutely irresistible and the Goblin King flexed his fingers to hear their chorus. He could wait no more.  
  
In a single movement of horrific grace, Jareth took the mortal. He plunged in to the hilt and shuddered in ecstasy when a scream of shock ripped from the youth's throat. But his movements were slow to start as he forced the backs of the boy's legs up against his thighs and clamped his arms up over his head. Such beauty. Such perfect submissiveness. Just the way it should be.  
  
Jareth gazed intently at the boy whose eyes remained closed in his infernal dance of pleasure and pain. Of all the treasures and singularities he had allowed his eyes to feast upon, this was by far the most beautiful. His deep thrusts quickened.  
  
Toby gasped and cried out again, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. The Goblin Lord bent to retrieve them before they could grow cold and he whispered again in the mortal's ear.  
  
"It's a shame I couldn't see you ripen to such exquisiteness."  
  
Toby opened his eyes to meet the blue ones that nearly and strangely mirrored his own, his mouth pulling in cool air with sharp gasps. Jareth met the gaze with his own serious one and thrust harder still. His hand reclaimed what his mouth had recently tasted and the symphony of delectation began its crescendo.  
  
Time and space and rational thought were all but shadows in those last blessed moments. Jareth tightened his grip on Toby's wrists and his ministrations were severe to the breaking point. Only when the mortal screamed out and burned his hand did he will his own release, vanishing in the glaring lights of oblivion and taking the boy with him. He held them there for as long as his power would allow and still the screaming and tremors ripped the air the way a violin string holds for a seemingly impossible series of infinite seconds. The light was searing, the closest thing to heaven he would ever touch.  
  
He decended them slowly for fear he would shock the child into death. Collapsing on top of the boy, Jareth breathed hard, his heartbeat almost matching the race of the one beneath him. For several moments they laid entwined within one another before Jareth rolled away and pulled Toby over into his arms. The youth's flesh was pale and trembling as if he had just stepped away from the abyss adjoining Heaven and Hell. And indeed he had.  
  
The Goblin King kissed the cool damp forehead and remembered what it was like to hold another living body in his arms. The whole of the evening was one of his finest works of art, an exotic rendering built from pain and desire. For now, he was content. The wakefulness of the day before finally caught up with him as Jareth gradually eased into the downy clutch of Morpheus' sanctuary. But he took Toby with him, crooning the ancient tragic lullaby again in the boy's ear.  
  
The fingers wrapped around his back squeezed lightly before they two were lost in the realm of darkened dreams.  
  
*  
  
To be continued . . .  
  
*~*~*~*~* 


	3. Dreams and Nightmares

To Take Back the Child  
  
* By Eerie *  
  
*~*~*~*~* Chapter Three *~*~*~*~*  
  
The morning greeted Toby with a headache that seemed to carve splinters into every inch of his skull. His tongue felt numb and unnaturally thick in the dry tomb of his mouth as he cracked his eyes open and blinked against the garish light filtering through the massive window. His body was far less comfortable. It felt as though he had recently run his muscles to the point of paralyzing exhaustion. He blinked again, more slowly, and turned his head to discover that he was alone. The sheets to his side showed no sign that anyone had been there; they were cool and flawless.  
  
The evening before whirled like a surreal dream through his head and he made the mistake of closing his eyes to capture it more fully. As soon as his lashes touched he felt Jareth's searing hot body over him again, those sharp fingernails digging into his wrists and scraping maddeningly over his chest, the pain, those odd blue eyes hazed with lust and madness alike. But the more he tried to find the details, the more they seemed to disappear from his memory.  
  
Toby groaned in pain, his very bones throbbing. The possibility that it was a dream contradicted the dull ache that consumed him. What had Jareth done to him? The night was difficult to comprehend, but, from what he could recall, hideously satisfying despite his current sensations. Every one of his trysts at home paled drastically in comparison to even the fragments of its memory. But now he wasn't so sure that his body was able to endure it.  
  
Reopening his blue eyes, Toby drew his muscles taut against their protesting screams to sit up. He eased his back against the headboard, panting in exhaustion. It scared him to be confined to such a state. What if he had to summon his strength? Perhaps Jareth would not be so kind today.  
  
Suddenly uncomfortable in his immodest state, Toby searched the room with his eyes, hoping to discover the whereabouts of his clothes. The place was just the same as when he first studied it and what he sought was either not in plain sight or no longer there. He was betting on the latter. His eyes drifted to the sinister wardrobe.  
  
With great care, the youth lifted himself from the bed, standing on shaky legs. He approached it slowly, the mounted skull's ruby eyes leering down at him maliciously. Stopping before the ominous structure, Toby stared at the skeleton hands and wondered if there was some trick necessary to pry them apart. His hands lifted and took them nimbly.  
  
Like a carnivore descending on its hunt, the hands unfolded and clamped about his in an iron grip. Toby cried out in shock and pain, struggling to free his quickly bruising fingers. The eyes in the skull lolled grotesquely and fixed upon him, gleaming brightly. Its massive jaw creaked open slowly, emitting a sound like rusty gears to shatter the quiet of the room. All at once it snapped shut again, clacking so loudly that Toby jumped and pulled more insistently at his restraints. He winced and attempted to relax his arms, feeling those crimson eyes burning holes into him. The jaw opened once again and the skull spoke.  
  
"Whose hands are these?" Its voice was burdened with undeterminable age; it drawled thickly and tiredly as if it hadn't spoken in centuries.  
  
Toby was aghast. He thought fiercely, for fear a hasty reply might well be the incorrect one, and his wrists would be snapped like dry twigs. His skin was already breaking beneath the metal bones. The sight of red gleaming under silver made his stomach lurch.  
  
"A . . . guest of the Goblin King's," he stammered.  
  
"Guest?" the ghastly voice repeated and its eyes glared harder. It seemed to consider for a moment. Surely it could be no lie, for no one that was not in Jareth's favor could so much as set foot in this room. Finally its heavy hands eased and dropped the mortal's as it spread the doors apart.  
  
A great blast of musty air swept the youth's blond hair up behind his shoulders. Breathing with relief, Toby studied his bruised and broken hands. He hesitated before quickly tearing his eyes away and thrusting his fingers to his mouth. The salty liquid seemed to ease the pain of his dry tongue despite the wretched state of his joints. Once the blood was cleared away, Toby held his wrists level with his head avoid any further bleeding, alternating hands absently as he switched his attention to what lay beyond the closet doors.  
  
He was amazed to find a completely different room of considerable size that could not possibly fit within the wardrobe doors by logical means. But the place was full of illusions and oddities it seemed. It was with careful deliberation that he stepped inside.  
  
Adorning every wall were racks filled with fantastic garments. Some seemed to sparkle with life as his eyes delved into their numerous layers. He had simply wanted something, anything, to clothe himself. But now, standing in the midst of such an inventory of finery, he was struck dumb. However, the thought of Jareth returning any moment provoked his feet forward.  
  
He reached for a matte navy blue frock coat with a large angled collar trimmed in gold braiding and studied it for a moment. A plain white shirt hung beside it and he seized it, slipping it quickly over his head before his fingers could stain it. It fit him so well it was unnerving, though it hung open at the chest and cleaved down to a halt just before the navel. Not surprisingly, a pair of matching navy blue breeches hung on the other side of where it had been. He pulled these on next, another flawless fit. Thrusting his arms into the sleeves of the light frock coat, he eyed the row of tall boots beneath the rack. By probable reason, any of them should fit as well.  
  
Toby bent and took up a pair of dull black leather and eased his feet into them. When he stood straight and fully dressed, he decided that he felt much more comfortable. Turning to escape the overwhelming closet, he was stopped short when his eyes were taken with something that shimmered more brightly than any other object in the closet. He stooped and found buried inside the pocket of one of the glittering coats the exposed hilt of a fine dagger. Curious, he withdrew it.  
  
Its sheath was encrusted with various small jewels over hard burgundy leather. In the center of these jewels were strange symbols embossed in silver dust that sparkled faintly in the light. Too tempted to resist, Toby unsheathed the blade and studied its sharp edge. It was marvelously crafted; its metal seemed to glow as he turned it in his hands. But for some reason he could not bring himself to replace the object. The dagger was smoothly slipped into the tricky lining of the frock coat before he stepped back into the bedroom. The great wardrobe doors all but slammed shut as soon as his foot crossed the threshold. After casting down one final glare, the skull's eyes fixed on the opposite wall and faded.  
  
Walking toward the window, Toby wondered at the strange blade, hoping he would never come upon a situation in which he would have to use it. He stopped at the orifice and allowed the sunlight to bathe his face, relishing in the light breeze that teased his skin. With a great sigh he rested his weight against the thick sill, fighting the urge to let all of his shaky muscles collapse in exhaustion. His eyes roamed the view below.  
  
Twists and turns of the great labyrinth transfixed his attention and he followed them with interest. Beyond the maze of walls was a seemingly barren wasteland spotted with a few horridly mangled trees that stretched their naked boughs about like gnarled fingers, reaching in vain for the contrasting beauty of the sky. There seemed to be no life whatsoever among the maze save for the gently swaying trees of the scattered forests. Strange, for there was not enough wind to invoke their dance.  
  
Toby let himself fall into their odd hypnotizing movements, oblivious to the motion that drew close up behind him. He was snapped back into reality when the Goblin Lord's arms circled his waist possessively.  
  
"I see you've discovered my labyrinth. How do you like it?" The silky voice uttered as a chin descended on Toby's shoulder.  
  
Certain fear returned to the youth's nerves and he chose to remain still. The arms about him squeezed harder and nearly provoked him to nausea.  
  
"The limits of your body amaze me," Jareth whispered sultrily and ran his snake-like tongue along the edge of the young man's ear.  
  
Toby shivered in a mixture of desire and loathing. But he was suddenly flung around to face the master of the castle. A sinister smirk lay like a fine frost upon the pale smoothness of Jareth's face. The youth could not help but notice that the Goblin Lord looked younger somehow as he bravely met those eyes that coldly and brazenly studied him. Those eyes fell slowly along the plummet in his shirt, lingering on the visible fragment of the youth's pale chest.  
  
Toby could not bring himself to speak but merely stood and tried to pry his eyes from the uncomfortable scrutiny the others were paying him. But Jareth had discovered his wounded hands, the shallow lacerations of which had been seeping without his notice. Toby clenched his hands into fists in a vain attempt to hide his wounds.  
  
The Goblin King lifted one with care, smoothing his own fingers over those of the mortal. Looking up into Toby's eyes, he slid those fingers beneath the other's to pry the fist apart. When Toby winced, Jareth smiled and once again lowered his eyes to inspect the marred flesh.  
  
"Ah, I should have warned you about that earlier. But it's nothing serious," he said and raised the palm delicately to his mouth to run his tongue over their shallow lines with nothing short of ceremony. Jareth's eyes closed as he stole the blood from the youth's hand, a look of contentment crossing his features.  
  
Toby watched in fascinated horror. It was as if the man enjoyed the taste of blood whereas Toby could hardly stand the sight of it. Stormy blue returned to meet him fully. Realizing that he was daydreaming, the youth looked down and started when he saw his hands were purged of both blood and bruise.  
  
"Sleep well?" Jareth suddenly asked quite pleasantly, but with a dark glint in his eyes.  
  
The youth looked down at his boots hastily, growing hot in the face. His shame was a blazing pillar in his core, but he couldn't recall just why that would be. The evening before was just a haze in his memory, caused by too much alcohol no doubt; there was nothing more.  
  
"Good," the king said and smiled before taking Toby's hand and pulling him away from the sun.  
  
Jareth led the boy from the room and down the hollow stairwell, supporting the majority of his weight as Toby could just barely walk on his own. Upon entering the common room, the goblins stirred and sneered malignantly at the mortal being led like a pet from their king's arm. They nudged one another and snickered; a few simply burst into peals of laughter that remarkably resembled brittle fingernails being dragged mercilessly over a blackboard. Their terrible eyes ogled Toby and some even glinted with hunger. The youth did not want to think about what would befall him if not for Jareth's power over them. They were easy enough to be around the evening before, but the overindulgence of alcohol made gnawing insistence for food all the stronger and they did not disguise this fact well. Actually, there was something like envy gleaming in their eyes as they gnashed their jaws.  
  
Jareth was unfazed. He merely cast daggers at them with his eyes and they obediently cleared a path for their king. To Toby's surprise, Jareth did not reprimand the few goblins that nipped mockingly at the human's ankles. The youth flinched from them, the look of fear in his eyes only enticing the creatures more. Their laughter was shrill in the distance as the pair descended another set of stairs.  
  
"Where are we going?" Toby ventured.  
  
"You've not eaten yet," came the curt reply.  
  
The youth dared not ask for an embellishment, but simply followed. He had no other choice. The stairway led into an airy dining hall where an enormous table adorning an elegant spread was standing. When he saw it, the youth realized just how weak he felt and the prospect of real food was more immediate in his mind than anything else. Toby was promptly seated on the right side of the master's position at the far end. Jareth took that position.  
  
A scrawny goblin with a tight-set mouth suddenly kicked the set of doors open from the kitchen, carrying with it a covered platter. The large object was set before the Goblin King before the lid was removed and a great cloud of steam beneath billowed out. Toby wondered how the goblin was able to carry it with such a frail structure. The creature bowed uneasily, glaring up with surprising hatred at Toby before scuttling back through the doors.  
  
The youth wondered if the sudden hostility directed at him was based on the feast that would go unshared with the goblins. Or was it something more? The scent of the heavily spiced meat gripped his stomach and his line of thought vanished quickly. Jareth served the youth first before taking some for his own plate. The meal began in silence.  
  
Toby was uneasy, though it was not from the food. On the contrary, it was better than he had expected. But the Goblin King's oblivious manner toward him made him wonder if there was something going on that he didn't know about. It seemed as if Jareth were lost in contemplation. He was excruciatingly curious to know what, but remained quiet.  
  
"They resent my decision to keep you," the King of Goblins said from absolutely nowhere, as if he had been reading Toby's mind the entire time. Yet his eyes refused to look at the mortal.  
  
Toby set his fork down, suddenly wondering what he was doing. Was he truly a prisoner in this castle now? Jareth had implied that escape was impossible. Escape . . . how was it that he got himself tangled in this mess? Toby stared at the half-cleared plate, his hunger suddenly wane. The evening he awoke and found himself in this place . . . what was he doing beforehand? Reading the book. But he remembered that it was from sleeplessness that he picked it up, a sleeplessness born from despair. He faintly recalled the numbing effect of the sleeping pills he had taken just beforehand to ease him into slumber.  
  
Jareth's eyes now slid to his and a kind of questioning was imbedded in that gaze. Toby shuddered; the man was indeed reading his mind.  
  
"Does that bother you?" the king inquired.  
  
"Yes, to be honest," the young man replied, feeling hot with the violation.  
  
"It's difficult not to when your thoughts are so carelessly unguarded."  
  
Toby furrowed his brow and glared at the man, but Jareth only smiled with amusement.  
  
"Now, tell me what brought on this despair. I'm most curious, for it lingers in your lovely eyes every minute."  
  
What was Toby supposed to say? Well, Jareth, I hate my life and it feels like everything I do is totally meaningless or wasted on someone who can't appreciate it one bit, and now I'm prisoner in a castle full of mad goblins ruled by a man who has a thing for black magic. Toby sneered at the thought. But Jareth was still looking at him expectantly. The youth returned a quizzical glance, amazed that the Goblin King now had, or merely displayed, the decency to honor his privacy. But now he had to say something.  
  
"I just have bad luck," he said.  
  
The Goblin Lord raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Honestly, don't waste your breath with such pointless statements." His eyes grew keen. "Tell me what really makes you hurt. And don't lie, because I'll know it."  
  
Toby looked up for a moment and watched a slow smirk take over Jareth's lips. He tore his gaze from the unnervingly raw hunger in the other's eyes and stared down at his hands instead. "I . . . don't know how to answer that."  
  
"Then tell me how it was that you've chosen to wish yourself away."  
  
"It wasn't my choice. I was talking in my sleep," the youth said simply.  
  
"Oh, I think it was more than that. The dream that provoked you to call me was not merely fleeting I imagine," Jareth said and paused to sip his wine. "There's much more to it."  
  
Toby stared at his full glass. "I haven't been sleeping much lately."  
  
"And why is that?"  
  
The youth sighed. "It's my dreams. They've become so strange lately; and when I wake up I can still feel them, like they're trying to devour me. I go about and no matter how hard I try I can't stop thinking about them. People were starting to get annoyed by it, but they didn't seem to care, even my own family. It's miserable."  
  
Jareth's face was alight with interest. "Though I could easily discover for myself, I'd prefer it if you told me. So then, what are these dreams like?"  
  
Toby met the Goblin Lord's inquisitive eyes bravely. "It makes no difference."  
  
"I'm disappointed that you'd try to keep things from me, Jareth. You'll soon learn that such things are impossible." Strange blue eyes darkened. "I'll ask you once more, and advise you to take the chance. It's much more painless that way."  
  
Dread welled up from the youth's depths. It must have showed, as Jareth was now smiling. Toby spoke reluctantly. "Like any dream, it's hard to fully understand. But the theme is always the same. There's a transformation. And the setting looks strangely like this place." He looked accusingly at his host, but very briefly.  
  
The Goblin King's eyes narrowed as he looked at the child. "It must have been beautiful."  
  
Toby continued as if he hadn't heard. "And my sister was there; I believe you remember her. She's calling out to me, begging me to come home. But I can't move, even when she starts to cry. She's telling me to fight." He looked up once again. "Why would she say that?"  
  
Jareth's face was serious, revealing no answers.  
  
"Am I to become her replacement?" Toby dared very quietly, half hoping his companion would not hear.  
  
The King of Goblins leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and folding his hands before his face. "Don't cheapen yourself."  
  
"I want to go back home," Toby said seriously.  
  
From the glint in Jareth's eyes, it was apparent he was again smiling behind his hands. "Whether or not you meant it, what's said is said. I granted your wish; there can be no reversals. Is such a concept truly so difficult for your human minds to comprehend?"  
  
"Then for what reason are you holding me here?" the youth spat angrily, suddenly irritated with all the questions and cryptic answers.  
  
Jareth's hands unlaced quickly and slammed down on the table as he stood. The silverware and platter shivered as the wineglasses toppled over, staining the white tablecloth deep burgundy. His change in attitude was like a tempest.  
  
"Do you think yourself some kind of victim? It was by my grace that your call was answered. And all this," the king swept a hand over the table and gestured at Toby's clothes, "for a slave? Even your precious sibling didn't have such gifts."  
  
Jareth lifted his hands away before the seeping wine could touch them and took a menacing step closer. "She may have wielded her charms skillfully against me, and for that there can be no forgiveness, but never did she defeat me, even when she took back what was rightfully mine."  
  
The Goblin King eased and stood tall. "Do you have even the vaguest idea why you weren't thrust to rot in the oubliette as soon as you breached the Underground?" His eyes watched Toby's carefully.  
  
Toby's hand unconsciously began to edge toward the blade hidden in his coat. But suddenly Jareth's temper died; he breathed deeply and smiled.  
  
"But there will be time for those answers later." The Goblin Lord resumed his seat and tossed his head. "Oh dear, what a mess." He set the overturned goblets back on their thick bases and refilled them with the strong burgundy wine. Holding one out to Toby he said, "Please, let's put this unpleasantness behind us. You are my guest, are you not?"  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Toby had been ushered off into the custody of the goblin servants, though much to the child's dismay. Jareth sternly commanded the creatures to keep their filthy fingers off the human and his word was never taken lightly. He decided to give Toby his own room for the time being and allow the youth to fully regain his strength. The room was not an exquisite one, but certainly much more accommodating than the pits of the dungeon.  
  
Jareth pulled his garments off and cast them to the floor. They shattered like glass and dissolved as soon as they touched the hard surface; they would reappear moments later in their proper place within his wardrobe. The Goblin Lord descended into satin depths of his ancient bed and stretched his long arms up behind his head, musing over the evening. The anger that sprung from the brazen youth's questions still lingered weakly in his blood. Jareth had hoped that Toby's attitude would not be bound with such similarity to Sarah's, but he learned that it touched the boy deeper than he had desired. That would have to be purged. Once accomplished, his plan could begin its artistry.  
  
He sensed his spell to significantly weaken Toby's memory of the passionate evening shared between them was complete. Not that he regretted his impulsive decision, but he knew that placing a powerful memory like that so suddenly in the summoner's head might do too much damage to start. He would dominate the child's mind slowly to make the boy completely his own. The evening was largely for himself, just a taste of the goods he had recently acquired.  
  
He remembered the warm rush of electric energy he had acquired from Toby and had almost forgotten what it felt like after so many years. It cleared his mind, made him feel remarkably younger, and allowed his imagination more space to roam. Now he took advantage of it as he thought about what the boy said in regards to his dreams. Could he have forseen his fate? Jareth snorted. Impossible for a mortal, he thought, but perhaps the child is strange. All the better.  
  
A smile took the Goblin King's lips as he lowered his eyelids.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Hey, what are you doing?!" Toby cried as the goblin snagged his coat roughly and began to jerk it from his back.  
  
"Majesty's orders," the little thing barked fiercely and tugged the coat off. It was cast haphazardly to the floor; the dagger hidden within inched from the lining imperceptibly. The goblin hadn't noticed and moved to seize Toby's shirt, but the youth stepped away defensively. Growling, the creature thrust its hands on its hips and stared with irritation at the boy.  
  
Suddenly the door to the small room crashed open and the other four goblins that had led him up came barreling through with a large, round wooden tub in their hands. The object slammed with an echo on the floor and they skittered away again. The remaining goblin turned back to regard Toby.  
  
"Well if ya ain't needin my help then I be goin. Ya make me sick anyways," the wrinkled goblin said and snorted with disgust before ambling from the room.  
  
As soon as it left, the other goblins returned with great buckets of steaming water that were promptly emptied into the large vessel. They turned to leave without so much as a word to the boy. The last one stopped suddenly and turned to throw a cake of soap at Toby's feet before wrinkling its thin nose and following its companions. The door slammed behind it and the lock slid in place from the opposite side.  
  
Toby relaxed in their absence and eyed the steaming tub. A bath sounded marvelous just then. He eased off the remainder of his clothes and recovered the pale soap from the floor. Stepping cautiously into the hot water, Toby immediately felt relief and steeped himself fully with no more hesitation. He worked the soap carefully over his skin and set it on the ledge. Studying the simple room, he wondered how long he would be held up there. Though thankful to be absent from the Goblin King's presence, he'd have to devise a way to escape and return home. Jareth seemed to have some unspoken plans for him with his "favor" and it was frightening to imagine the possibilities of what those were. The haze in his mind from the evening before did not sit well with him and the idea of the King of Goblins using his thoughts like a toy was anything but reassuring.  
  
Toby rested his head on the tub ledge and allowed his eyes to slip closed, thoroughly enjoying the hot refreshing water. He thought about Sarah and suddenly longed to speak to her. They hadn't seen one another for a long time and it was as though his only sister was forgetting him. He knew she was busy, but their visits moved further and further apart until they seemed like those between two strangers. He missed the closeness they had when he was younger, the relationship that was like caring friends' more than just siblings'. When she moved away it nearly broke his heart.  
  
His peace was abruptly broken when the door unlocked and opened to another inconsiderate goblin. Toby turned his head and watched as it strode into the room with an armful of clothes. It was the goblin that threw him the soap.  
  
"Thank you," he said as the creature set the clothes on the bed.  
  
Its pointed ears perked up as it returned the boy's glance.  
  
"I'm Toby. What's your name?"  
  
The goblin shifted its mouth to the side and thought for a moment. "Ain't got no name," it said and began to shuffle back toward the door.  
  
"Maybe I could give you one," Toby called before the thing could escape. To his relief, it stopped and seemed to consider, but kept its back to him.  
  
"Don't need one," it said decisively and stormed from the room.  
  
Toby sighed. So much for making an ally, he thought. With a bit of regret, he lifted himself from the tub and realized that there were no towels to dry with. He walked to the window and pushed it open to the evening air when an idea tempted him. His eyes fell downward to see if the orifice provided a possible means of escape. They quickly dimmed with disappointment at the sight of the long, needle-like thorns bursting generously from thick bushes that covered the ground beneath and had even begun to climb the high tower wall.  
  
"Damn it," Toby said softly and stared out over the labyrinth bathed in the light of the moon. For several moments his eyes ran over its countless paths in an attempt to somehow memorize them, wondering what path his sister had taken. Frustrated, Toby closed the window and stalked to his bed. But the glimmer of the exposed dagger caught his eye and he altered his course to retrieve it.  
  
He slipped into the bed and promptly placed the weapon beneath his pillow. The sheets were not fine, but soothing to his tired muscles nonetheless. It didn't take long before his last threads of consciousness were severed, but in those final seconds he almost swore he felt the touch of icy fingers seeking the outskirts of his dawning dreams.  
  
*  
  
To be continued . . .  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N: Once again, thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! 


	4. Gardens

To Take Back the Child  
  
* By Eerie *  
  
*~*~*~*~* Chapter Four *~*~*~*~*  
  
When Toby awoke, he felt remarkably refreshed. His room was silent as he sat up and watched the dust motes fall softly though the sunbeam that descended over a wide square of the glittering floor. Stretching, he wondered what time it was and whether any of the indignant goblins would barge in at any moment. He took up the clothes that had been left for him the night before and slowly began to dress.  
  
Thinking about his dream, Toby shivered. In it, he had been lying in the Labyrinth, his body sprawled uncomfortably between the two towering slabs that stretched out seemingly endlessly on either side of him. Struggling to get to his feet, he felt as though he had been asleep in that position for some time, his muscles tired and sore. As he stood rubbing his shoulder he cast an uncertain glance into each direction of the narrow passage, trying to locate some clue as to which way to take. He knew where he was, having been in such a dream many times before, only this time it seemed different somehow.  
  
It was hot and windless, though the clouds above crawled as if frantic to be away from the cursed maze, or so it seemed to him. He began to walk in the direction of their flight. From somewhere outside the walls he heard the sound of a woman's crying and instantly knew it was his sister's. It wasn't long before he was running; growing more and more frustrated from the lack of any changes about him. Just before his breath was spent he stopped and gripped his knees, pulling in the stale air, dismayed to find it did little to ease the burning in his lungs. After a moment of rest, he straightened and nearly jumped from his skin when he saw the wizened little gnome standing not three steps before him.  
  
The creature carried a spray can of tarnished bronze, and a great ring of jewels and trinkets hung from its belt to shimmer in the rosy sunlight. Its clothes were old and tattered about its body and appeared to be stretched tightly across a stomach that had seen a fair amount of growth.  
  
He had not heard the creature approach and surely it could not have been hidden, for the walls were practically seamless.  
  
"Who are you?" he called timidly.  
  
"Just the caretaker," it replied in a haggard voice. "Who are you?"  
  
"Toby," he said and chanced a step closer to see that the gnome was not going to run. "Do you have a name?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
He stopped. "Can you tell me what it is?"  
  
"Sure." The creature turned away and began to trot leisurely down the long passage as if Toby were never there.  
  
Sighing, he jogged to meet up with it. "Excuse me, but, what IS your name?"  
  
Little dark eyes flickered to his face with a bit of interest but the caretaker did not stop. "Name's Hoggle," it finally replied.  
  
"Well Hoggle, it's nice to meet you."  
  
The gnome merely grunted.  
  
Keeping his strides short to stay at the little being's side, Toby said in a more sugared voice, "Since you're the caretaker and all, you must know how to get out of this maze. So, do you?"  
  
"What'd you wanna do that for?" the gnome asked and veered off to the side.  
  
"I've someone I need to . . ." he began. But Toby was stopped short when he saw what Hoggle was suddenly so interested in. A tiny sheer-winged girl with fair limbs and honey-colored hair that fell to her slim waist hovered over a glittering rock near the wall. His eyes were wide with wonder at her loveliness and he followed the gnome for a closer look.  
  
But Hoggle paused and sprayed the mysterious contents of his can with deadly precision. The glowing faerie fell helplessly to the rock and glared up angrily at the gnome who only smiled triumphantly before she fell still. Hoggle pinched a delicate wing in his stubby fingers and turned her over with a critical eye.  
  
Toby opened his mouth to voice his dismay but lost all confusion to horror: the gnome had popped the tiny faerie through his bulbous lips and swallowed the creature whole. And with a few smacks of his tongue, Hoggle adjusted his belt and began to trot toward his unmarked destination once more, muttering a tune.  
  
Toby stared after him for a moment in revulsion before he realized that he had more important things to do than to criticize the food chain in such a place. He plodded quickly to the gnome's side once again, trying to mask the disgust that might still linger over his countenance.  
  
"I want to get out of the Labyrinth," he said.  
  
Hoggle shifted his mouth. "Can't say I recommend it."  
  
"Why not?" Toby cried, exasperated.  
  
The gnome suddenly stopped and looked around as if some deadly serpent hissed its presence nearby. Seeing nothing, Hoggle turned back and stared hard at Toby, gesturing with his head. Toby obeyed and drew in closer.  
  
"I know who you are," the creature whispered hastily, "and I can tell you where the exit is, but I can't show you."  
  
"Why?" Toby asked in a matching tone of voice.  
  
"Never mind. The gate out of the Labyrinth lies between the rocks that look like skulls. Down there." Hoggle nodded toward the direction from which they had come.  
  
"So I've been going the wrong way the whole time?" Toby said loudly and groaned in aggravation.  
  
"Shh. Mind yourself here," the gnome growled and began to speak again.  
  
But Toby hurried away to search for the rocks. Suddenly realizing his rudeness, he cast a look over his shoulder to offer his thanks, but Hoggle was no longer there. He ignored the oddness of it and continued to run. It wasn't long before he came upon a golden door set in the wall. There were no rocks around it but it WAS a door all the same and he felt compelled to open it.  
  
The knob was quite cool in his hand, despite the heat, and he pulled it. A refreshing breeze met him like a savior and his eyes squinted in the overpowering brightness of the sun that was sheer contrast to the muted rose in the passage. When he could see clearly, he found a garden flocked with flowers of a thousand colors around a white set of chairs and table. A dark-haired woman with a large sunhat reclined in one of these chairs with her back toward him, her arms resting behind her head.  
  
Curious and relieved to be free from the stagnant heat, he drew near. As he approached, the woman sat up and slowly turned to him. Tears immediately burned in his eyes when he recognized his older sister smiling radiantly, holding her arms out for him. He fell into them and squeezed her tightly.  
  
"Sarah! I wanted to see you so much," he cried.  
  
Sarah pushed him away gently and brushed his tears with her fingertips. As she pulled her hand back, he caught the very faint scent of decaying jasmine, though the sea of flowers around them quickly consumed it with their own perfume. He smiled and clasped her hands.  
  
"What's wrong, Toby?" she asked sweetly.  
  
"I thought I was lost in that maze and I heard you calling for me. I heard you crying but I just couldn't find you," he pleaded, afraid that she would be angry. "Are you alright?"  
  
Sarah smiled again. "Oh my dear baby brother, I'm perfectly safe. I've just been missing you too. That's all. But . . . why do you want to escape? You're lucky to be here. You can be anything you want to be here, have any dreams you want to dream. You can be free here."  
  
"Then, you're going to stay with me?" he asked, hopeful and confused at the same time.  
  
Her smile sweetened further. "You don't need me to hold your hand anymore. You're all grown up now. I want nothing more than for you to stay where you'll be away from your suffering. We all do." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek before standing and pressing his hands. "You can find that here, Toby." With one final smile she strode to the golden door that opened for her with a sigh.  
  
He watched her go but did not feel sad; it was more like a murky feeling of resolution that came over him. He turned and stared at the dancing flowers, lost in their heavily intoxicating scents. That was the last thing he remembered when he awoke.  
  
As he pulled on his boots, Toby could swear he still had that fragrance ensnared in his senses after such a dream. He walked toward the window and gazed down to search for a spot that resembled the garden, but saw only walls, hedges, and forests.  
  
The lock slid open loudly from the other side of the door and Toby turned to see the thin-nosed goblin from the night before standing there with a perfect look of annoyance written over its small face.  
  
"Majesty awaits you," it grumbled with a sneer.  
  
Toby strode to the door and followed the little creature down the winding tower stairs. He chanced a question to ease the tension and his curiosity. "Are there any gardens in the Labyrinth?"  
  
"Tch. Who need gardens? Only Majesty got one and no one go there." The goblin snorted.  
  
The urge to see that garden was great though Toby kept silent for the rest of the walk.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Jareth sat in full regal splendor upon his throne when Toby entered, one leg drawn over the arm of the stone seat. He wore a black, full-sleeved shirt that fell to the floor in length. Its sides were slit up to an end at his hips to reveal a pair of white velvet pants loosely tucked into tall boots of deep burgundy leather. Its mandarin collar laid open two buttons like a slice of rebellion. A perfect sphere of vermilion hue danced in the man's slim fingers and cast its bloody color over his inexplicably angered face.  
  
Upon seeing the boy, Jareth lifted his head and cast the red crystal aside. It fell as if to crash upon the floor but stopped within an inch of the threatening surface and rolled on its own accord toward the large window where it ascended and disappeared into the daylight beyond. The king's expression melted to quiet somberness before he beckoned with now empty fingers. His catlike eyes watched Toby's every movement until the youth stood before him.  
  
"How are you feeling today my fine young fellow?" the king asked in his dark and thrilling voice.  
  
"I'm well," the youth replied and shifted his eyes away uncomfortably from those that would devour him. He realized that the throne room was oddly devoid of the goblins' presence.  
  
"No nightmares then I trust?" Jareth lifted a corner of his delicate mouth.  
  
Toby shook his head meekly.  
  
"Come, kneel before me," the Goblin King commanded.  
  
The young man obeyed and found it more surprising that he didn't flinch from the Lord of Goblins' hand than from the touch itself. He succumbed to the cool digits that smoothed over his cheek and down across his jaw before braving a glance into the man's eyes. When he met them, a strange, strong urge came over him, an urge to wind his arms about the king's neck and taste those pale lips. Toby's mouth opened slightly as he stared back into stormy pools of magic, but he didn't move.  
  
"Such loveliness that comes to me from the mortal world. I am feeling generous today. Name anything you desire and you shall have it," Jareth said and kept the boy locked in his searing gaze. "But only one wish."  
  
Toby's lips parted further to speak and he very nearly asked for permission to quench that sudden thirst but his mind intervened with an image of seas of sunlit flowers just before that happened. Still bewitched by the memory, he made his decision without further contemplation. "I want to see your garden."  
  
The King of Goblins raised an eyebrow in slight surprise, but that quickly dissolved into an amused smile. "And how do you know I have one?" he asked and his eyes glinted from some unseen light.  
  
"I saw it in a dream," the youth replied and sighed when Jareth's hand withdrew, leaving the place he touched strangely warm.  
  
"Did you now? But are you so certain mine will appear as the same? Perhaps my garden is a cold, sunless place that even the goblins find displeasure in," Jareth said.  
  
"That is my wish all the same," Toby answered and felt his heart jolt strangely when the Goblin Lord's smile turned to one of approval.  
  
"Very well. I'll take you to my garden, but on one condition, as it is a place that no mortal feet have trodden and the privilege is a great one. Aside from spending the entire day with me there whether or not it is to your liking, you must agree to become my apprentice for the remainder of your time here. And because I am so generous today, I will sweeten the deal in your favor: I'll agree to alter time and send you from the Underground at the first snowfall, if then you should still desire it." Jareth watched with keen eyes and waited for what he wanted to hear.  
  
Toby searched the deal for some hidden trap that would ultimately lead to his downfall, or worse. He rolled the words over in his head several times and found nothing. If all he had to do was wait until winter, he could surely manage. It was late summer already, which meant it would be only a few months at the most. Then he could make good of the bargain and return home. With a slight nod he agreed to the King of Goblins' entreaty.  
  
"Then it's done," the king said and rose.  
  
Toby stood as well but a cautious thought suddenly entered his mind. "Wait," he said, "how do I know you'll keep your end of the deal?"  
  
Jareth's throat rumbled with trapped laughter and the man snaked his arm around the boy's shoulders. "Do you require a pact signed in blood? That can be arranged quite easily."  
  
Toby blanched at the notion. "Do we have to use blood?" he asked and shuddered imperceptibly.  
  
Jareth turned his pale face and regarded the now paler face of his summoner. "That's entirely up to you," he said and chuckled again.  
  
"Then I'd prefer we not," Toby stated meekly and fell into step with the taller man.  
  
"Alright. Then you'll just have to trust my word won't you? I am a man who keeps it, rest assured."  
  
"That might take some time," Toby said very quietly, not really meaning to say the words out loud.  
  
But Jareth had caught them. "Only until winter," he said and smirked darkly.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
The intimidating image that Jareth had offered in regards to the nature of his personal garden was only a bluff; most likely made to milk a reaction from the child for his own fleeting amusements. As Toby stood amid the lush trees and vivid flowers awash in the light of a warm, late morning sun, he closed his eyes against them for a moment to simply feel. Summer breezes fresh as birth swept lovingly over him and seemed to whisper scattered melodies in his ears as they passed. Birds twittered in the tops of emerald- leaved trees and insects buzzed softly from tall blue bushes bursting with mauve berries.  
  
It was not a notably large garden, but its beauty and singularity made up for any lack in space. However, there were a few paths that cut into the thick bright grass that carpeted the entire stretch. From behind a scraggly bush at the end of the longest of these stepped a pitch-black peacock with its tail feathers spanned proudly. It strutted down the vein toward Toby, who had knelt down to beckon it in his captivation. As it came nearer, he saw that there were in fact several colors meshed into the strange darkness of the bird's feathers. Deathly shades of green, blue and red shimmered over the tips of every plume and seemed to swirl about their circular margins like oil still fresh. The bird's eyes were crimson and it switched them every now and then with a flick of its head to study the human in its path.  
  
Toby watched it in wonder, thinking he had never seen a bird quite so marvelous. His fingers drew the bird close. When it was just within reach, Toby felt a hand seize his arm and yank it away. But he barely had time to turn in question before the great black peacock snapped its sharp beak at the empty air where his hand had just been. Toby stood and glared down as the creature hissed terribly at him.  
  
"Moody things. And usually they're not good ones," Jareth said and stepped past the bird who took no heed of him.  
  
Toby absently rubbed his fingers that narrowly escaped injury and made a wide arc around the garden's unfriendly resident to follow the king further into the greenery.  
  
Jareth stopped at the base of a tree with boughs that hung down like heavy tresses to swipe the garden floor. Pressing his back against its pale trunk, he watched the youth's reactions to everything around him and tilted his head to rest comfortably against the smooth bark. Though the day was gorgeous and his garden looked perfect, the king found himself thinking of things that weren't quite so pleasant and he allowed himself a scowl. The crystal containing his spell had still not found its target and the goblins apparently weren't having much luck either. Though he could blame the latter on their sheer lack of wit, the sphere should have released its magic by then.  
  
Jareth was still brooding when Toby approached him.  
  
"You lied. This garden is beautiful," he said in higher spirits and the Goblin King looked startled for a moment. There was something in that lost look that Toby didn't find comforting.  
  
But Jareth pushed himself from the tree and smiled provocatively as he wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders and hovered close. "Yet these flowers pale in your presence."  
  
Toby shivered but pushed the man away. "You're using spells on me," he said sternly.  
  
The Goblin King smiled and stepped close again, taking the young man's chin in his hand. "I'm only trying to appease what already stirs within you."  
  
Toby blushed and snapped his head away. "Don't say such weird things."  
  
"Am I mistaken in your first impulse before you made my garden your one wish?" Jareth crooned.  
  
"What impulse?"  
  
The Goblin Lord merely chuckled and began to walk again. After a moment he said, "Shall we play a game to amuse ourselves?"  
  
Toby eyed him warily. "What kind of game?"  
  
Jareth mused briefly. "Wasn't 'hide and seek' one of your favorites?" he asked and whirled about to face his companion, his flaxen hair sparkling in the sun with the movement.  
  
Though Toby found it strange that the man knew this, he did not remark on it. He said instead, "How are we supposed to play a game like that in such a small place?"  
  
Jareth smirked in great amusement. "Ah, but you let appearances deceive you."  
  
Toby sighed doubtfully. "Fine."  
  
The wind swirled the king's long garment about his legs. "If you seek me out, you win. But if you don't find me before sunset, you lose. Now, turn away and count to ten. "  
  
As the young man complied, Jareth took two steps backward before dissolving in the wind.  
  
"Ten. Ready or not here I come," Toby said dully at length and turned back toward the random pathways that winded in no particular direction. He was tempted to roll his eyes at the obvious simplicity before him but refrained and decided it best to amuse the strange king.  
  
Taking the closest of the paths, where the haughty peacock had appeared, he walked steadily, sure that at any moment it would lead him straight into the back wall that cut the garden off from whatever lay beyond. Sure enough, the trail ended and Toby stopped. He was about to turn back when he noticed something odd about the stones themselves. Leaning in close, it seemed that they pulsed lightly and he presently reached out a disbelieving hand to touch it. The rock yielded to his fingers and he gasped to find that it seemed to suck around them. Pulling his hand back in alarm, he screwed up his eyes and shook his head. After casting a look behind, he took a deep breath and walked through the wall.  
  
The sensation of passing through the obstruction was like sliding through gum and he feared he would suffocate if he couldn't find his way to the other side. A thousand tiny blunt fingers poked and pulled at his clothes and hair as if the wall wasn't certain which way to cast him. Toby pushed at them and felt his head go light from lack of oxygen, but, being that there was no air, he couldn't cry out. The things suddenly came to a silent conclusion and gave one final shove to knock him through the other side.  
  
Toby sprawled on the cool ground gasping and smacking his arms at the phantom fingers. Finding them gone, he relaxed and laid his head back to study what lay on the other side. It was still a garden of sorts, but the colors were bizarre. The trees stood on gnarled trunks encrusted with dark pink bark and their mangled leaves grew a shade of blackish purple that sparkled like amethysts in the sunshine. Wilted flowers spread out in dull clusters of a hundred shades of gray on leaves that matched the trees'. The dry grass beneath him sprung from the ground in hues of deep indigo, and when the wind touched the blades they rippled like a weird body of water. The whole place seemed to cling to a shred of life as it was, but also carried an air of deathlessness.  
  
Toby pushed himself upright and gaped at the scenery around him. It was dark and strange but unnerving at the same time, for the layout was exactly the same as the initial garden, but only one path remained, and there was a small patch of grass growing between that path and the wall, as if it had already ended, or began, from where he had just come. He searched about; looking high and low, but there was no sign of the king. A curious urge came over him to see where the path led. He followed it and was not surprised to find himself at another wall.  
  
He was tempted to attack it with a running start for fear that he'd be trapped within again, but decided to test it first. And thankfully so, for his hand struck solid rock. Toby felt the wall all over in case there was some trick doorway hidden somewhere. But nothing gave way. Grumbling, he turned back and searched some more. Jareth was not there.  
  
When he found himself at the wall he had come through, he was suddenly eager to leave that strange portion of the garden. He could not keep back a cry of outrage to find that this wall, too, was now solid. He scoured and found no tiny fingers waiting to push him through.  
  
He stalked away angrily, searching for another secret passage. But nothing made itself evident. He sought until he began to grow tired and approached the stone barrier again; surprised to find a white feather intermingled in the patch of inky grass where before there had been nothing. Was it some kind of hint? What was he supposed to do, dig a hole with his bare hands? Toby slammed his fist into the wall, suddenly tired of the game and wanting to be away from the shaded garden. He hadn't counted on hitting the thing so hard though, and his knuckles broke open.  
  
Surprised, he lifted his hand to inspect the damage when he noticed that the odd patch of grass began to emit thin wisps of smoke. His attention diverted, Toby crouched down and touched the strange vine that suddenly sprung from the earth. The blood seeped from his fingers and the ground smoked more violently, causing the mysterious plant to grow. A gruesome realization came to Toby and he reluctantly held out his bleeding hand to drip over the stretching earth and unfurling appendages. The plants about the garden all seemed to moan in anguish, or envy.  
  
The crimson tree foliaged in black leaves that stood, or rather leaned, before him was by far the oddest addition to the dark garden. Toby was awed and repulsed by the sight of it, but he couldn't take his eyes from the vein-like patterns mapping over the thin bark. With macabre fascination he ran his hand over it, and the thing lightly shuddered beneath his touch. Suddenly the bark of the tree cleaved and peeled back like leathery skin, revealing a narrow passageway into darkness. The youth braved a look inside and found that the tree was hollow. A yawning hole lay in the center of that hollowness, as if the tree had no roots.  
  
The breach was just wide enough to slip through; he peered down into it and found mostly blackness. But as he stared into the dark and attempted to swallow the lump in his throat, he saw a light softly grow from somewhere beneath and the flash of a stark white bird flutter from its hidden source. Working up his courage with a deep breath, he hoped the appearance that it wasn't too deep wasn't also deceptive and squeezed through the tree to plummet down.  
  
He landed hard, but not hard enough to break or sprain any bones. Toby stood and dusted himself off, throwing nervous glances about him. It appeared like a pit and was bathed in dull light enough to see that others had been there as well. It was not a welcome sight.  
  
Toby backed against the wall and stared in wide-eyed horror at the heaps of bones and scraps of ancient cloth that lay scattered haphazardly over the small cavern's floor, as if they had been tossed in like useless garbage. Between the mounds of morbid debris were twisted, leafless knots of stems tipped in dull yellow and green roses, the colors of decay. The scent of death was thick and Toby choked on the air. As he clapped his hands to his nose, fighting the urge to vomit, he discovered the source of the light was within the very blooms of the sickening flowers, which now seemed to turn themselves to face him.  
  
Blue eyes shot around the pit, searching for an escape. He remembered the mysterious white bird had flown away from the light and he stumbled through the mess of bones and animated flowers toward the darkest wall, hoping furiously that more blood wouldn't be required to get through. He was surprised to see something so simple as a door. But when he tried the knob his heart fell with confirmed dread. It was locked.  
  
The rotten air seeped past his clutching fingers and he coughed in disgust. But he had to find the key. It must be buried within . . . somewhere. Turning quickly, his eyes pored over the bones at his feet, his skin growing pale at the idea of touching them. The flowers formed a sort of garish spotlight on him now. Frantic with fear, Toby reached out and ripped one from its tough vine before thrusting it before him to aid his search. Skulls of various unidentified creatures gleamed in the soft, trembling light and seemed to move still, though that was caused, not anymore to the youth's comfort, by crawling insects slicked in a kind of black mucous. Another tide of nausea swept over his body but he clung to the fading rose.  
  
He clamored over the uneven floor of the pit and caught his foot in the gaping jaw of an enormous moldy skull, which sent him to his hands and knees in the seething black muck. The insects immediately took affection in his fresh skin and clung to him, crawling lovingly between slim fingers and over supple forearms. Toby shrieked then and bolted upright, clawing the mass of tiny bodies from his arms and legs. They fell away easily, having not had enough time to set in their sharp kisses, but the ichorous fluid slicked his pale skin and clothes.  
  
Toby kicked the large skull to skid over the other bones and tromped toward the opposite wall where the majority of the disgusting flowers took root. They lifted their blooms at his approach like a company of solemn residents mutely interested in a change of events. He pushed them apart and searched among their knotted stems. A flash of white caught his eye and he almost passed it off as a bone, but he looked closer anyway. Another pure feather lay in the black grease at the base of the glowing rosebush. He reached and plucked it up, staring at it as if it might suddenly speak. But soon he tossed it aside, closed his eyes, and plunged his hand down where the feather had lain. The wet debris licked his arm and various chunks both bone hard and slimily soft danced between his groping fingers. Finally something metallic brushed his fingertips.  
  
Toby clenched the object and hauled his hand from the putrid decay, relieved to see that his premonition was correct. Though vomit burned his throat, begging for release, he pushed it down and succumbed to broken laughter instead.  
  
He was still chuckling madly to himself when he reached the door and slid the key through the lock. It opened with an exaggerated clink and the boy did not bother to look for dangers before he nearly fell through.  
  
He was anything but prepared to feel the sun on him. Cracking his eyes open, he found that it was already evening, the day fire sinking closer to the horizon. It certainly had not felt like he had been away so long. His eyes then fell to the land and he nearly cried with relief when he saw that he was back in the green garden with its fragrant flowers already soothing the wringing scent of rot from his senses. He ambled senselessly toward the weeping willow. When he reached it, a white feather floated down. Toby reached out and snagged it cruelly, dreading its implications. But when he looked up he saw none other than the Goblin King perched on a thick branch with his back against the trunk, smiling down.  
  
"Looks like you win. But I'm surprised it took you so long to find me," Jareth said and jumped like a cat from the tree.  
  
Toby gaped. "Do you have any idea what I went through? That . . . that pit . . ."  
  
Jareth cocked his head to the side in confusion. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"The tree and the maggots . . . the black blood-" Toby suddenly broke off when he looked down and saw that his clothes and skin were no longer covered in the dark, vile filth. His eyes went wildly round.  
  
Jareth put his arm around the youth's back and led him toward the castle. "My dear boy I've been in that tree the entire time. And you never once even looked up. Has the sun gotten to you?"  
  
Toby trembled and shook his head. "No, I saw it. I'm sure of it."  
  
"Perhaps you need to rest. I'll give you a tonic to put you to sleep if you'd like." The Goblin King escorted his companion inside the cool halls of the castle.  
  
With the sudden refreshing change in temperature to ease the swirl in his head, Toby felt inclined to agree.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
As Jareth sat in the boughs of the willow tree with his crystal, he found himself grinning like a child. The game was proving to be as much fun as he had anticipated. But suddenly he felt something new pull his attention away. Tossing the orb aside, he realized his spell had finally burst from the vermilion-colored ball. Casting a glance toward the sun, he mused bitterly on the interruption but knew he had plenty of time to spare before its setting. He turned his thoughts toward the castle and found his goblins already there, lazing about the hall.  
  
Fools, Jareth thought as he stood and melted with the breeze.  
  
When he reappeared, the King of Goblins stood in an oubliette. The space was cast in red glow to alight the embedded shards of glittering rock in their ruby dance. Jareth smirked.  
  
"Found a good hiding place, have you?" he asked the gnome who threw himself prostrating at the king's feet.  
  
"Please, Majesty. I didn't mean any harm," Hoggle whimpered.  
  
"Really. I believe you've said these words before after a certain young woman found great relief in your aid. Am I misunderstood about this?" Jareth said with such eerie calm the oubliette itself seemed to quake.  
  
The gnome shuddered. "No, Majesty."  
  
"Then why should I spare you once again? I've been more than generous even in light of your treason. A brave little gnome you are to live as the only one in my entire kingdom with such a crime on his head," Jareth said lowly.  
  
Hoggle pleaded mindlessly in his terror and Jareth merely listened, nodding his head sullenly every now and then.  
  
"Perhaps if you had come up with something new this time I would have reconsidered. But this drivel bores me," the Goblin King finally interrupted and knelt to face the wizened gnome levelly. "Unfortunately for you, this dark oubliette will be much more difficult to free yourself from than it was to find."  
  
"You . . . you mean to keep me here?" Hoggle cried.  
  
"Oh not at all. But I do ask payment for you final insubordination," Jareth whispered darkly.  
  
The gnome asked weakly, "What's that?"  
  
The King of Goblins smiled and laughed. He reached out and seized the creature's wide chin in his hand and said, "Two of your most precious jewels."  
  
A glint of useless hope flared in the gnome's eyes. "Any of them, Majesty."  
  
Jareth bared his sharp teeth in a wider grin. "I appreciate your compliance."  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
The sun was beginning to descend slowly behind the mountains when Jareth and his summoner reached the tower bedroom. The boy continued to ramble and scratch at his arms until the king bade him undress and lie down. Toby did as he was told and accepted the sweet sleeping tonic from Jareth's hand.  
  
"For what it's worth, I enjoyed our time together today. Perhaps we could do it again tomorrow," the man said and kissed the youth's pale forehead.  
  
Toby shivered violently at the notion before falling into a sleep as deep and hollow as the crimson tree that grew on the border of his sanity. And Jareth left the room with a smile.  
  
*  
  
To be continued . . .  
  
*~*~*~*~* 


	5. A Voice From the Past

To Take Back the Child  
  
* By Eerie *  
  
A/N: Finally, the update's here. I can't believe it took me so long to even look at this story again and I apologize profusely for the ridiculous wait. But no matter what, I will finish it! No doubt I've lost everyone who *was* reading it, so to the new readers, I hope you like it so far. Thankfully, my muse is waking up after several months; so another update might not be far off. Also, my previous chapters have been re-uploaded to fix a few errors, and Chapter Two is now up in its full, unedited glory. Yes, there are much "worse" scenes up on FF.net (some of which I've written =P) so I figured why not. So anyway, enough babble. Enjoy.  
  
*~*~*~*~* Chapter Five *~*~*~*~*  
  
The next few weeks passed by rather uneventfully for Toby. His days were largely spent wandering the various levels and wings of the Goblin Castle, and he was often immersed in studying the numerous volumes of lore in the grand library, the room that instantly became his favorite haunt upon his first step inside. Books written on seemingly infinite subjects lined the walls in enormous cases, many of which held stories written by immortal hands. Though the majority of these seemed like fantasy, Toby eventually began to wonder if perhaps they were true accounts from the past.  
  
Within the library he would pass the time without much notice; he could spend the entire day steeped in an intricate story of magic and look up momentarily at the high window to see that night had already fallen. He would sometimes plod back to his room with a book in hand and continue reading until he fell asleep, the possibilities of the tale's conclusion playing in his dreams.  
  
Most likely due to the fresh things filling his mind on a daily basis, the consistency of Toby's nightmares grew thinner until he ceased to have them. Now it was either intriguing singularity that he experienced or he would wake with no memory of dreaming at all. The tangible dangers lurking around every corner of the castle also became less of a threat to him, as he was usually left to himself, but he still slept with the dagger concealed beneath his pillow every night despite.  
  
Because surprisingly, he encountered the goblins very rarely during this time. In fact, the only contact he had with them was when they made an occasional appearance to relay the message that his meals were waiting for him in his quarters, though that courtesy didn't last long. Most of the time his supper had gone cold by the time he returned to his room. They continued to take to him quite coldly in general, but he was more content with such treatment than he was with their previous bestial ways. They no longer mocked and snapped at him, but flashed cruel glares before going along their way. Thankfully none that he knew of could read, so their presence in the library's wing was practically nonexistent.  
  
His contact with their lord was even more rare. It seemed for a while that Jareth had simply disappeared until one day, when Toby was sprawled comfortably on the recently discovered library's floor with a thick volume of interest lying beneath his face, the Goblin King quietly entered the room and stood behind him unnoticed for several minutes before he finally felt that unseen presence and whipped his head about. Jareth merely looked at him in a curious way, saying nothing, and Toby began to panic, hoping he hadn't perhaps crossed some line by intruding upon the king's sacred space. His heart hammered before Jareth smiled faintly and said, "I'm pleased you've become comfortable. Do feel free to wander where you like while you stay."  
  
The king then turned and exited as silently as he arrived, leaving Toby oddly perturbed. That was the only day he actually saw Jareth since the door to his quarters went unlocked, the second day after his surreal experience in the Goblin King's garden. It was strange that that sort of liberation happened when it did, for since that incident in the garden, Toby had felt the notion of traveling outside into the labyrinth was like walking into the waiting arms of Death. The images of those skulls and broken rotting bodies cluttering the terrible pit he may or may not have actually fallen into remained with him, and he imagined that perhaps they once belonged to people like him. The ones that attempted to conquer the maze and escape the Underground. To him it was much wiser to stay where he was for the time being.  
  
Though he had attained the peace and quiet he could have only prayed for a few weeks ago, Toby was growing restless bit by bit until he began to become fully aware of it. His routine trip to the library the other day was spent wandering aimlessly about the large room, picking up books and discarding them after reading a page or two, quickly re-shelving the ones with covers that didn't appeal to him. He hardly ate anything that day, and spent most of the evening sleeping out of pure boredom. The Goblin King too invaded his conscious thought more and more; Toby was growing quite curious as to why he had managed to avoid the man altogether. Was it intentional on the king's part? He had no idea. But he was supposed to become Jareth's apprentice, albeit in only lord-knows-what, but so far he had learned nothing, save what was found within the books he had read.  
  
There were even times he would take a different route to the library wing, convincing himself it was to see more of the castle, but subconsciously anticipating a chance run-in with the elusive king. All he got for this extra effort was a reception of ice from the goblins he met along the way. It only served to agitate him further.  
  
Now he sat in his customary seat at the small table in the corner of the room, staring at the dark stew and hunk of bread set before him. Eating alone had quickly turned dull, and he wished he had some company to share. Even a slovenly goblin would do. The food's steam snaked up into the air as he watched, and only when it dissipated did he blink and realize that he couldn't take much more of this routine.  
  
And what was Jareth doing all this time? Some host, Toby thought and snorted bitterly to himself. But shouldn't he have been happy to have his solitude? He had grown quite used to it back home after all.  
  
The blonde turned his head and looked at the stars gleaming dimly outside his window. The waning moon was only a thin slice just above the horizon, a mocking ghost of a smile for him from an unconcerned twilight. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he finally decided he wasn't hungry and stood to push his chair beneath the table.  
  
Should he go search the Goblin King out? No, Toby thought, only if I get totally desperate . . . but if I do . . . what should my excuse be? He paced the room from end to end countless times, lost in thought without really realizing it until he noticed from the corner of his eye that the moon was no longer visible through the window's view. Stopping, he shot the bed an unhappy glance and knew he certainly wouldn't be able to sleep off his restlessness either.  
  
Okay, he convinced himself, I'll just take a walk around the castle and maybe I'll get tired that way. Toby nodded to himself and left the room, already feeling less anxious with his resolution.  
  
Every one of the stone-lined hallways and corridors spotted with tattered tapestries and crest-stamped banners were lit with candles as Toby sauntered through them. There were a few occasions that he had tried to take a more adventurous tour of the castle but would inevitably be rerouted back the way he came by a darkened hall, too afraid to travel where there was no light. For all he knew, there would be a mob of hungry goblins waiting to attack him within the heart of the pitch. Now it appeared as though no sconce within the castle was unlit, giving him no immediate reason to hesitate. The numerous candles also made the air warmer, almost invitingly pulling him further into the stronghold's core.  
  
Toby was absently surprised that he encountered none of the castle's residents along the way, but when he came upon an empty throne room he began to feel strange, as if something was amiss. Perhaps there was a party going on elsewhere in the castle. If so, that would definitely explain the goblins' absence. The blonde carefully searched the room from where he was to be sure.  
  
Satisfied that he was completely alone, he eyed Jareth's throne before approaching it. One of the king's fine mantles lay across the seat in sparkling folds of deep sapphire blue, beckoning Toby to touch it. He did so, reluctantly at first, before gingerly taking it up and sweeping it about his own shoulders. It was far too long, even for a tall man, and half of the great cape billowed out over the floor behind him. Toby took hold of the excess and wound it about himself like a burial shroud, lost in the scent that clung to it. It was a warm, somewhat nostalgic smell, like old incense lurking in a church after a funeral service. It reminded him of the first funeral he had ever been to, and his grandmother's corpse, the first he had ever seen. He remembered the peace on her face, the emptiness behind it, but still half expected her to open her eyes at any moment as he gazed down from his father's strong arms. He wasn't fearful, even for being so young.  
  
The scent eased deep into his senses, and Toby soon began to think of his parents. Would they be worried about him? They didn't keep in contact much since he moved out on his own, assuming that he was getting by just fine and far happier to be that way, when in truth he assumed they were glad to be rid of him. Ever since high school, when he quickly decided that he didn't want to play sports or get involved in school events anymore, they had grown more distant. They had been concerned at first, had attempted to persuade him into seeing a psychologist if he was depressed, but he refused. He wasn't sure why, but suddenly his way of living, the influences in it, even his friends ceased to make him happy. It was as if the realization of his ephemeral life had smacked him in the face without warning, and he didn't want to do it anymore, didn't want to end up like his parents. They already seemed dead to him somehow, caught up in a world full of preassembled illusions. It was all too tedious, meant next to nothing. He knew there was something out there, something much bigger for him, if only he had even a hint of just what it was.  
  
Only Sarah was sympathetic in his newfound revelations. She was the only one that understood anything he had to say and would listen without shaking her head in disappointment at him. But she was a talented woman; she had found her niche for acting when she was young, about the same age he was when he realized he had nothing. Sarah would constantly tell him otherwise, that he had only to employ more patience to discover what he was meant to do. But he only half believed her.  
  
Toby withdrew the satin from his face and swung the mantle back over the throne. Sarah . . . why didn't she ever tell him about this place? What was it she was trying to keep him from knowing? His dreams had revealed that she went through hell to get him back after wishing him away so many years ago. Certainly she wanted to protect him. But what Jareth had said was true . . . he had come and gone from this place as a weak and helpless toddler with not a scratch. The goblins were a rough-looking lot, and crude by nature as well, but were they really dangerous? Or was the labyrinth the real danger in this world? And what exactly went on between her and Jareth? Was the king just bitter that she solved his maze with that unwavering determination of hers?  
  
Thoughts and questions tumbled like the fragments of a kaleidoscope in Toby's head as he stared through the throne before him. What was this strange feeling coming over him? It almost felt as though he was beginning to resent his sister, when he should think of nothing less than keeping her in reverence. Toby shook his head to clear the unwanted thoughts away before casting another look around the wide room. He was still alone.  
  
Simply allowing the memories to flow like that made him even lonelier than before, and his eyes fell to the stairway leading to the Goblin King's quarters. He scoffed himself. What would Jareth think if he were to make an appearance unannounced and this late at night as well? He attempted to resist and turn back toward his room. But biting curiosity and nagging boredom consistently proved to be the victors.  
  
His footsteps echoed throughout the stone coil despite his consciously subdued steps. Once Jareth's door stood before him, he stopped and listened. There was no sound on the other side, no sound about him save his own breathing. Slowly, he lifted his hand to knock upon the large structure but didn't have a chance to so much as touch it before the knob creaked and twisted. Toby held his arm frozen in midair while the door softly groaned and pulled away from him. It halted to allow just enough room to step inside, which he did with reluctance.  
  
The space beyond was dimly lit with only a few candles, all of which were centered on the short table near the window. Jareth was seated in one of the richly upholstered chairs beside this table, legs crossed and chin propped heavily in one hand; his other loosely held a book that threatened to fall to the floor at any minute. The man's eyes were closed, his face half shadowed from the scarce, flickering lights.  
  
Toby stood silently in the threshold, unsure of whether to flee or venture further. It appeared as though the king was asleep; his face was lax and his breathing steady. The window lay open enough to let in the late summer breezes, gently tousling Jareth's silken hair and teasing the flames. It was truly a setting worthy of a photograph.  
  
What's wrong with me? I shouldn't be here, Toby thought. He began to turn away but was stopped from his retreat by something shining against the Goblin King's face. With very careful and quiet steps, he neared the sleeping man, absently tilting his head to the side to study what was gleaming against Jareth's skin. Once just a few steps away he paused, and realized that they were tears.  
  
The very sight of it made Toby instantly look away, as if he had just witnessed a crime. But his mind turned with possibilities of their cause. It seemed like a singular vision; he had never imagined the Lord of Goblins as even capable of shedding tears. Perhaps Jareth was dreaming of some unknown past, or maybe the story he had been reading was a heart-wrenching tragedy. Toby inhaled the cool air deeply and looked back at the dozing man. Whatever it was, it made him oddly beautiful.  
  
Toby took a small step closer to get a better look at the book within the man's slender hand. The entire thing appeared to be handwritten in fantastically stylistic letters that swooped and flowed like a mountain stream, and the header on the page read, "On the Race of Goblins: A Study."  
  
Strange, it didn't seem like something that would move someone like that. But the young man was compelled to take a closer look at the book, for it might just give him a hand when dealing with the creatures. It might even have some useful information about the Labyrinth and its ruler.  
  
Carefully, so as not to wake its owner, Toby took hold of one end of the book and began to pull it away from inattentive fingers. The man didn't move an inch, nor did his breathing even falter when the book cleared its obstacle and rested in the youth's hands. Toby sat quietly in the opposite chair and began to read where Jareth left off. His eyes crawled over the words more to get accustomed to the fancy lettering than to absorb them.  
  
~"Many species have taken them for granted, mocked and feared them without any effort toward learning more about the goblins and the hidden strengths that they possess. I am certain it is because of their seemingly untamed bloodlust. It is true, they are a wild race, and lack either the wit or the desire to elect among them a real leader; they choose to live in abandon without rules or guidance, which is the largest factor in the cause behind their dwindling numbers. But I have seen that these creatures can become something more, can even learn to control themselves with the proper influence. After a few somewhat unsuccessful meetings with them, I can only come to the conclusion that the goblins also live in fear of one another due to the aforementioned fact, but they stand helpless to resolve what can only be an age-old problem."~  
  
It became apparent immediately after the first paragraph that this was more like a thoroughly detailed diary than an actual publication. Toby found it even more interesting because of this, and continued on.  
  
~"Night of the Harvest Moon: I feel that the goblins are becoming used to me; perhaps they finally realize that I am no threat to them. Though, there are several distrusting ones that I perceive as quite dangerous, so I must continue sleeping with protective wards around my tent for now. Yet tonight I was able to sit close to their celebratory circle around a blazing fire and witness the chant-driven dances they had partaken in. A rare sight it was to see them all unified this night, as if sharing a common goal makes them forget their ruthless and lawless ways. Yet even despite my intrigue at this alone, it was there that I discovered a crucial element to my research, though at first I was stricken dumb with horror at what my eyes beheld.  
  
"A young fae child, who could not have seen more than half a century come and go, was led into the circle and close to the flames. An elder of the goblins, whom carried a tall, wizened walking stick to support its terrible stance, approached the quiet child before chanting a few words in their harsh tongue. Unfortunately I could not make out what he spoke, for the roar of the flames consumed the words. But suddenly the goblin elder fell silent and withdrew a glowing, jewel-encrusted blade with swiftness that seemed unnatural and plunged it into the child's abdomen. I watched in disbelief as something glowed upon his breast just before the fae child crumpled in on itself, clutching the bleeding wound, which by logical means should have been instantly fatal. But instead of falling, the child undertook a transformation, and I knew what had been done.  
  
"It was only a few moments before the spell was complete, and a fresh young goblin met my eyes where once a gracefully delicate being had stood. The goblins all grunted in what I assumed was welcome to the newest member of their clan while several tripped over each other to taste of the immortal blood upon the ground. I could barely move. Was this the way the goblins reproduced? If so, what had the very first goblin been? When my shock waned I realized then and there that I must unravel the source of that elder's power. I must win their acceptance fully if I am to understand.  
  
"Fifth Night of the Harvest Moon's Waning: Things have become relatively normal since the ceremony. The goblins allow me to roam amongst them, sometimes speaking to me in a language I'm slowly coming to decipher, but mostly leaving me be. The elder I have dedicated myself to pursuing watches me with cloudy eyes, but seems to know what my intentions are. Among all the goblins, he is the only one with intelligence that can stand reasonably close to mine, for I have seen it within those gray orbs. He must surely be unnaturally old for a goblin, and I wonder if it has something to do with the strange-shaped ornament around his neck.  
  
"I've made my interest in this piece quite evident, without the threat of thievery, and he seems to grow brighter with my curiosity. I feel that he is no longer interested in being alive anymore, and seems to distrust his fellows, with just cause. There is a strange wisdom that simply cannot die with him. I must do what I can to learn more.  
  
"New Moon: The secrets of the goblins are closer than ever. The elder has begun to show me things, and I find myself ensnared in the illustrations woven with his hands. He has even allowed me to study the ceremonial dagger, one of the most finely crafted I've seen. I felt its power at first touch. Yet the pendent around his neck draws my attention to near obsession lately, and I long to feel its weight against my chest. But more than anything, I desire its power.  
  
"My intuition tells me that only time is my obstacle. I will arrest that power, no matter what it takes."~  
  
Toby paused to look away from the words, as the dim light was causing them to strain. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized Jareth was staring at him.  
  
"This is rather unexpected," the king drawled, "but what surprises me more is that you were able to read it."  
  
The youth looked at the king wide-eyed and asked, "Wh-what do you mean?"  
  
The King of Goblins lifted his chin from his hand and deliberately let the tension in the air grow before answering. "That book is not written in human language. Your speed in learning is very pleasing."  
  
Toby's eyes dropped to study the book in his hands and realized that Jareth was right, though he was still able to understand the symbols as easily as he had just done. But why hadn't he noticed until now?  
  
"How is that possible?" the youth said in an exhalation.  
  
The Goblin King smiled. "My library must have taken to you."  
  
Bewildered, Toby met the man's eyes. The library itself taught him, without his knowing, to read an immortal language? The idea certainly sounded preposterous, but dismissing it altogether would be foolish. He had seen and heard far too many strange things to do that.  
  
"That's . . . that's amazing," Toby said.  
  
Jareth seemed to consider. "Not really. It was probably relieved to see a fresh mind after so many years."  
  
The king then held out his hand expectantly. Toby looked blankly at him for a few seconds before jolting up and slamming the book closed. The older man took the object and set it on the table before settling back into the chair and folding his hands over his lap.  
  
"I-I'm sorry I woke you, I mean, I really didn't mean to even come in here without your permission," Toby rushed.  
  
"Luckily I awoke in a good mood. It must have been the sight of your face," the king all but crooned.  
  
Toby stood up as if the chair was about to burst into flames. "I'll leave you in peace now." He crossed the room toward the door, the knob in his hand when Jareth's voice stopped him.  
  
"Wait."  
  
The youth turned to look over his shoulder at the seated man who still watched him carefully behind the candles.  
  
"At least tell me why you came here," the king demanded flatly before taking up a more playful air. "Perhaps you've been missing your generous wish granter?"  
  
Toby felt the warm rush of embarrassment pound behind his face before he answered. "I was just wondering what you were doing. I've hardly seen you in weeks."  
  
Jareth smiled bemusedly at that. "I see. Are you satisfied now?"  
  
Toby furrowed his brow. "I'm still confused."  
  
"How's that?"  
  
The mortal snorted in exasperation, taking Jareth's sly remarks as potentially derisive. "I thought I was to become your apprentice, but I still don't have a clue what I'm supposed to be doing."  
  
Jareth unlaced his fingers and pushed himself up before striding toward his trespasser. His eyes sparkled. "Interested now, are you? I thought going home was your foremost concern."  
  
Toby took a step back. "It is."  
  
The smirk on the king's lips could not have been more cunning. "But you are ready to deliberate that. Then we shall start tomorrow."  
  
The youth huffed defensively. "Nothing will make me change my mind."  
  
"Fine." Jareth gazed at the indignant young man, not allowing his great amusement to show in his eyes. As much as this turn of events entertained him, he was also relieved that the boy took such initiative after the few weeks he allowed. Though he would have waited a month if that were what it took.  
  
After a moment he turned and stalked back to his chair. "You will meet me in my throne room at noon precisely. Please do not test my patience with punctuality."  
  
Toby felt like throwing a curse and slamming the door, but ended up leaving silent civilly. It was more from regret that he actually came this far only to be enormously embarrassed that he did so.  
  
On the walk back to his room, Toby thought about what he had read. It was utterly mysterious and also quite disturbing. Who was the author of that journal? Was it by any chance an ancestor of Jareth? The dates marking each passage were frustratingly vague to mark the number of years that had gone by since it was penned. But he knew there was something of key importance there, somewhere. If only he could have read more.  
  
His room was chilly when he returned, and he quickly lit all the candles he had been supplied with. He realized that his journey had rejuvenated his appetite once he spied the cold supper left undisturbed on the table. After wolfing down the dry bread and thick stew, he undressed and slid between the bed sheets, deciding to leave the candles burning until he could warm up and grow drowsy. When he slipped his hands beneath the pillow, something hard met them. He remembered the dagger and uncovered it to study.  
  
The jewels hugging the sheath seemed to glow under the candlelight. Toby recalled the narrator's description of the old goblin's dagger and wondered if this was in fact one in the same. Had Jareth ever noticed its absence from his wardrobe? Well, Toby thought, whether or not he knows, I'll be hanging on to it for a while for my own sake.  
  
For well over two hours Toby laid with open eyes. His thoughts switched randomly from those of home to concerns about the future. He remembered the tears on the Goblin King's sleeping face, probably the most mysterious occurrence of the evening next to the emptiness of the throne room. He didn't care much for the way those crystalline streams provoked such unpredictable feelings to life within him. But Jareth proved to be his usual, snobbishly aristocratic self once awake, as if nothing happened at all, which offered no clues to help explain the phenomenon.  
  
Toby was quick and forceful to push that line of thought away for more pressing matters, such as his first day of "class" tomorrow afternoon. He wasn't quite sure he was ready to undertake whatever Jareth would dish out for him, but he was certain that he had no choice in the matter. Still clutching the arcane weapon to his breast, he breathed in deeply. No matter what his eyes would witness, or what his ears would hear, he would do his best to be strong. But if he should fail, then what? Maybe Jareth, disappointed in his misplaced favor, would throw him to rot in the oubliette after all. He didn't want to test the odds.  
  
*  
  
To be continued . . .  
  
*~*~*~*~* 


	6. Lesson One

****

**To Take Back the Child**

By Eerie

* * *

Chapter Six: Lesson One

* * *

It was well before noon that Toby awoke and made himself ready for the day. The sun floated just above the horizon in hues of scorching scarlet and orange, gifting the morning skies with an otherworldly touch. Birds and beasts twittered and cried out within the dense forests that bordered Jareth's kingdom, filling with life the world that had narrowed considerably for Toby in the last few weeks. To anyone else, the sky would have appeared bizarre, unnatural, but to him it was steadily becoming normal.

He paced about the room to kill time, occasionally toying with random objects before tossing them aside in boredom. As much as he would have rather denied it, he was excited for the events that would come that afternoon, but also a bit fearful. There came the notion of carrying the mysterious blade with him, but something persuaded him to decide otherwise. Confident that the goblins would not come to take the bed linens to wash that day, as such hindrances only got done if he asked them incessantly, he tucked the dagger again between his pillow and its case.

Once the clock upon the wall struck half past eleven, the blonde decided to head toward Jareth's throne room, though it would only take him ten minutes to get there. The stone stairs carried him down to the narrow hall that would lead to one of the main corridors that veined the castle. Every niche of the windowless walls and ceiling seemed to mirror the colors of the morning's gory birth, and no candles were lit to provide such lighting. Toby refused to wonder at this, for doing so was rather pointless anymore. He was coming to the point where he wasn't so sure the ground beneath his feet was actually real or just a product of Jareth's magic. Whatever the case, he still remained confident that snow really did fall in the Labyrinth . . . at some point. Certainly even the most illogical of places had their seasons.

Jareth was seated in his uncompromised royalty upon the throne when Toby entered. The king seemed to perk at the presence of his new pupil, and he straightened his head from its relaxed position against his fist. That hand lifted and curled to beckon Toby near.

"Excellent. You afforded me no time to grow weary of waiting," the King of Goblins said contentedly. "Ah, and you look marvelous as well."

Toby approached when heeded, sparing a skeptical glance down at the outfit he had chosen. It was all black, simple but tasteful, and served to make his pale skin appear more ghostly beneath. "It's nothing really," he claimed, stepping into the shallow ring in the floor to kneel down before the throne, placing himself as low as possible to the lord of the castle. Deciding to avoid Jareth's eyes until given permission, Toby didn't need to see to know that Jareth was largely pleased with this display.

"Lift your head."

Toby did so, and watched as the king rose and began a slow descent. Jareth fixed long fingers at his throat to hook the clasp of a rich sanguine cape that had previously been lopped carelessly over his shoulders. He wore matching red gloves that gradually darkened to black once they reached his elbows, where a spike of black vinyl curved both elegantly and maliciously away from each arm toward his shoulders like misplaced talons. His tall boots were of the same material, and also claimed similar pointed appendages, thought they descended down the sides like floating ribs. The shirt he wore was of decadent cream; its jabot lay sliced through the middle to allow the finely built chest beneath to appear nearly stark white against the rich colors.

If anything, Toby thought fleetingly, he's the one who looks amazing.

When Jareth suddenly grinned, Toby looked abashed to the floor. The Goblin King had crossed the distance to stand in front of the mortal before extending a hand that displayed a fine sapphire that was, in all likelihood, as ancient as it was priceless. Toby looked at it long enough to estimate this before reaching out and squeezing the hand to aid in pulling himself up.

Jareth's right hand was a blur the next moment as it sliced through the air and connected hard with Toby's cheek, throwing the youth back down on his knees in complete surprise. Toby instinctively pressed a tender palm to his stinging face and looked wild-eyed at the man who slapped him, wondering what the hell just happened. The softness of the glove had hardly softened the blow.

Jareth's gaze was remarkably humorless, but also not quite angry. "I offered you no assistance. You hardly need it for something as trite as getting to your feet." He paused to consider something. "Surely you know that we are not equals . . . but, if not, you would be wise to remember it from now on." His steady voice matched his expression.

Still holding his cheek, Toby cried, "Then what did you offer me your hand for?"

One elegant eyebrow arched. "For you to pledge me your loyalty, of course."

Toby didn't know what in the world Jareth was talking about, and was beginning to think the older man might be insane, until a blue glimmer caught his eye from the king's left hand. He grasped the idea then, feeling foolish for not understanding in the first place. But that didn't mean he was fond of this idea either.

Meekly, he held his hand out palm up to take the king's fingers, which were gracefully given to him. With closed eyes, Toby pressed a soft kiss upon the glittering jewel before releasing Jareth's hand and forcing his head down in a show of submission.

"Excellent. Now rise and come with me," the king said and turned abruptly on his heel without waiting to see if Toby had obeyed his order or not.

Saying nothing, the youth stood and followed. The king's great cape trailed along the floor before him like a flowing pool of blood, and Toby had to mind his steps to avoid accidentally treading on it. He didn't even allow a second's worth of imagination as to how Jareth would react to something like that.

While he followed the slithering crimson cloak, he gingerly touched his stinging cheek. He could feel blood cling to the wound hotly behind his skin and wondered if he would be sporting an impressive bruise the next day. He had just barely formed a disappointed scowl before noticing that Jareth was steering them straight into a wall. But before even a sound of confusion could form in his throat, the wall shook gently, but firmly enough to drop a spray of dust and specks of rubble to the floor.

A door had lifted; beyond, nothing but darkness. Toby peered disapprovingly over his guide's shoulder, suddenly wishing he had never even wakened this morning. But meager relief wasn't far behind, though only in the form of a few candelabras igniting upon his and the king's entry. It afforded him an opportunity to study what he assumed was his new "classroom".

The room was cylindrical in shape, like the inside of a tower. A table and set of chairs sat in the center of the circle and four candelabrums glowed at each side of the room as if to mark the four directions. Cracked stone steps spiraled up along the wall, which was practically made of books; hundreds of shelves were embedded all around and seemed to continue up to the tower's full height.

Toby's eyes followed the shelves loaded with books, unaware that he was slowly spinning around to take in the visuals closing in on him. Straight above, he could see that the tower burdened no ceiling, and that a brilliantly starry night was currently spilling its sliver light into the study, despite the fact that it was midday. He stared at the moon, wondering if he had ever seen it so clearly before in his life.

"Now," the king's voice broke in after giving Toby a moment for gaping, "we'll begin."

Jareth edged around the opposite side of the table before swirling around to seat himself, throwing his ruby cape aside with flourish. Tossing his blonde hair from his eyes, he gestured the boy to also take a seat.

Toby nodded once, seating himself across from his elder, doing his best to avoid the mismatched eyes that seemed to glitter predatorily in candlelight. Instead he rotated his neck to try once again to fathom the number of books crowding the room. Jareth was watching him silently as he did this, he knew, but for whatever reason he just did not want to instigate their next exchange of words. And the more he watched the King of Goblins from the edge of his vision, the more he saw those eyes of a stormy sea transform to the golden fire of a panther waiting to spring from a thick clot of dark bushes and cruelly devour its defenseless prey. Or was he only imagining that?

With a deep breath, he finally glanced at Jareth, who was not even looking at him, but nimbly selecting a book from a pile of dusty volumes resting on the edge of the table. Toby simply stared at the king, feeling quite uncomfortable in that suddenly cramped, moon-dampened room, not quite sure of what his eyes were showing him anymore.

Then Jareth looked up, a small smile dressing his lips. He opened the thick book that he had chosen after blowing a cloud of white dust from the cover. Once a desirable page was found, he placed the book in front of Toby and ordered the youth to read it.

Toby began to read silently as he was told. In truth, he was curious to know what it was that the King of Goblins had wanted him to learn, and soon his full concentration was fixed upon the text. An introduction on some widely accepted history and the concepts of various types of magic passed over his eyes.

As he smoothed a finger down behind a page to turn it, he happened to glance at Jareth, who was reading a book as well. The expression he had seen on the man's face the night before seemed to linger like a ghost over his features now, and Toby thought about the strange journal. He wondered if perhaps, since he was now officially Jareth's underling, he could acquire some additional information on the cryptic writings. If it had anything to do with history or magic then it shouldn't be an unreasonable request, should it?

Chewing his lower lip for a moment, he braved to break the silence. "Sire?"

Jareth's eyes blinked languidly and moved up to gaze at the mortal from the edge of his book. "What is it?"

The youth suddenly regretted attaining the man's attention. But he awkwardly continued. "Um, about that book that you had last night, well, I was wondering if maybe you could—"

"That has nothing to do with the task at hand for today," the Goblin King interrupted. "Nor does it have anything to do with you at all. I am pleased that you learned a new language as quickly as you have, but the content of that particular text is meaningless. You would do well to forget it. Now, resume your lesson."

Was he angry? Toby sat still, slightly taken aback at the lecture-like quality of the king's sudden reply. He stared blankly at the page for a moment, wondering why Jareth would want to dissuade him from taking an interest in the journal. What kind of secret did it really hold? But he didn't have long to muse before he felt his tutor's stony gaze upon him and he began to move his eyes.

Toby continued on silently for what seemed like hours. It was interesting, but the more he read and the more pages he turned, the more it seemed that his eyelids were becoming heavier.

Pausing to rest his eyes, Toby looked at the midnight sky above. Where he had expected to find that oddly defined moon he saw instead what he assumed was Saturn in a bed of stars. Its elliptical rings were fine like glittering dust, and he had to squint to make them out clearly. It was beautiful.

Relaxing his shoulders, he allowed his lids to slip closed against the universe, suddenly feeling very far away and incredibly sleepy. How late was it? Reopening his eyes, he glanced at the Goblin King, who was immersed in his own reading. The beginners' book was still open where he had left it beneath him, and he gathered his will to continue on. Toby dropped his chin and skimmed the page to find where he had left off. But before he could finish the page, his determination faltered and sleep claimed him.

* * *

Toby awoke violently, drenched in cold sweat. The air around him was freezing as if it were the dead of night in the middle of winter. It was quiet and nothing stirred the frigid air except the steam of his panicked breathing. He was prone, and it seemed that his very skin was steaming as well. He pulled the sheet up around him, realizing with a start that he was not in his own room. He whipped his head about to determine his location, slowly realizing in the darkness that he was in Jareth's bedchamber. Not only that, but in Jareth's bed.

Fright ran its brittle fingernails up his spine as the door to the room opened and the immaculate king of his nightmares entered, staring directly at him while slowly approaching. The man was shedding his clothes with each step, a look of hunger glowing brighter in those eyes as the room became colder and colder.

He couldn't move a muscle, though he wasn't certain whether it was from cold or fear. Jareth hadn't hesitated, hadn't given him a second to react before descending and devouring his mouth. The man's weight was upon him, the naked skin pressing against him consuming the wisps of steam rising from his own body despite his terrible chill. He wanted to push the man away and escape, but he was so completely helpless that he couldn't even protest with his voice. He tried and felt nothing. Perhaps Jareth had swallowed it.

Arms circled around his back and heaved him into a more embarrassingly submissive position, and the weight of the body above him fell between his legs. It was almost crushing, but beneath that unwanted force he felt heat returning to his stiff limbs, gradually melting sensation into him like sunlight on snow. Yet the king's mouth was sucking his energy and will, tasting the terror at the edges of his lips. He hadn't realized how much all this actually affected him until something brushed fully against his length, forcing the breath to break in his throat. The sensation came again and again, and he shut his eyes against the world for lack of a logical reaction.

Then without warning, he was impaled. His eyes flew open and he dropped his jawbone to scream, but no sound emerged. Jareth was grinning down at him like a mad cat, thrusting without concern. He squeezed his eyes shut against the vision, his only impulse to shed tears over the assault since his body wouldn't move. But tears could not be summoned, so he strained to simply, numbly endure.

Suddenly it seemed that his limbs belonged to those of another, or perhaps a marionette, for he very distinctly knew that he did not command his arms up around the king's neck. Nor did he want to curl his legs around the man's lower back. He tried to thrash his head in some gesture of denial and shock over what was happening, but instead his face lifted and found the ravishing lips of his seducer.

What was happening to him? Why did he feel that with every second of warmth received to thaw his chilled bones he lost a bit of his free will? His nerves were working fine, but for some reason he felt no pain at all. No, he was horrified to find that he was enjoying this.

He wanted to scream, to kick and draw blood. But his legs only clutched the body driving into him closer, deeper. It was unlike anything he had ever felt, like nothing his mind had even dared to imagine. It drove him mad.

For whatever reason that provokes one to whirl around at some unseen presence, his eyes opened and sought the window. Against the black backdrop of night outside, delicate tufts of white snow were falling in a slow dance. He watched them for a while, finding not serenity, but agitation. There was . . . something important. Something he had forgotten but must remember.

But Jareth had lifted one of his arms away and begun to stroke it with kisses. He turned his eyes from the window and gazed on the king's skin that glowed with a white to rival the pureness of the snow. Whatever it was that he was supposed to remember was forgotten again.

Those feline eyes watched his over the flesh of his arm before subtle, almost pleasant pain began to spread across his body. But it intensified quickly. He watched with disbelief as Jareth's smile became visible, radiating with utter sadism. The delicate bone of his arm was being cracked, forced against its natural bend, before it broke with a hideous resounding snap...

* * *

Toby's body jerked and straightened itself to attention before his mind even comprehended it. The object that Jareth was grasping struck the table loudly again before he woke up completely and realized that he had fallen asleep on the thick book. He shook his head and rubbed at his ear in a hopeless attempt to ease the tingling that the sharp smack upon the table had inflicted.

"Pleasant nap?" the King of Goblins asked with a tinge of annoyance. He placed the object he was holding off to the side. "If you're quite rested now, recite chapter six, lesson one."

Toby couldn't help but look with wide eyes at what Jareth had been holding. He thought perhaps it had been a stick of some kind. It was a bone, human in nature, but it could possibly have been from a goblin as well. Maybe it had once belonged to some previous student who had failed his lessons. Toby flipped to the lesson and began to read aloud without really hearing the words that passed his lips. His concentration was mostly fixed on fighting the blush from his cheeks that arose in the memory of his humiliating dream, and he prayed Jareth wasn't currently reading his mind.

* * *

He was sure that an entire solar system had orbited within the view of the study tower's ceiling view by the time the lesson was declared as finished for the day. As Toby trailed tiredly behind his teacher, he knew that it was nightfall. His stomach ached at having had nothing to eat all day and for once he began to crave the goblins' poor cooking.

As they entered the throne room, Toby expected Jareth to throw himself across the throne while the youth asked for leave upon his knees. He was somewhat surprised when the king's path headed for the stairs that led to the dining hall. Toby stopped, unsure of what to do.

Having heard the steps that followed come to a halt, Jareth paused himself and turned to the boy. Seeing the child's hesitation, he leaned his head toward the stairway before beginning his descent.

Taking it as an obvious sign of beckoning, Toby followed the Goblin King down. He took a seat at Jareth's right after the lord of the castle sat, and realized that this was only the second time he had been here. Hopefully tonight would go better than the first.

Jareth poured them both wine, ordered the servant to bring another place setting, and commenced to review Toby on the day's learning. He listened to the boy's accurate replies, impressed that the child had remembered the majority of what he had read.

Toby decided that the only good food in the entire castle was made for Jareth alone. Though he was hungry enough to find even the blandest food a grand feast, it was nice to have a change.

Their glasses never empty, Toby felt his smiles forming with ease as the night wore on, and he was able to forget his recurrent stresses to enjoy a simple conversation. Jareth wasn't quite as scary as he usually was, and that in itself was a relief. He had even laughed on a few occasions. But during their brief yet comfortable silences, he would find himself studying the master of the Labyrinth without scrutiny or loathing. It was strange. The fleeting urge to touch the handsome man in some sensuous way that had overcome his mind one instance or two was lingering over him now, but it wasn't going away. Toby didn't like that at all.

Jareth emptied his glass and ran a careless hand through his hair. "Yes, I'm sure you think that apprenticeship is boring. But it's not all textbooks. There are a few things an amateur must know before moving on to spellwork. Perhaps, if you further prove your skill in learning, we can start even sooner. But for now, you need your rest. We'll start again in the morning."

The king stood, tossing his napkin onto the tabletop. He started toward the stairs and paused with a thought before turning back to the mortal.

Toby was stunned as the man reached out and touched his bruised cheek so softly he might not have even touched him at all. Then those long fingers slipped down beneath his chin and tilted his face up to meet the man's eyes.

". . . Did I hurt you?" Jareth asked in a tone that if insincere was spoken by a master liar.

The youth's lips fell apart slightly without his realizing it. But he didn't reply. He just stared at those strange blue eyes.

The Goblin King wasn't smiling at all when he bent to place a tender kiss on the bruise.

The touch of the man's lips was wintry cold and Toby shuddered so hard he was certain that Jareth felt it too. But he closed his eyes and endured the wave of desire that washed through him.

The king ignored this and moved away toward the stairs. "Goodnight."

Something resembling disappointment swam with the wine in Toby's veins. He turned to watch the man's retreating back and suddenly wanted to stall him. Without really meaning to he said, "Wait."

It was rude, in that it was more like a command aimed at a king skilled in the black arts. It might have been that one word that would have simply ended his life then and there if Jareth had been so inclined as to have taken it the wrong way. But the man stopped, looking back over his shoulder patiently.

Toby felt his face burning. What the hell was he planning on asking? He faltered. "Um, nevermind. Goodnight."

"Don't be late," Jareth replied with an amused smirk before disappearing up the steps.

Toby wanted to smack himself. He didn't know what in the world he wanted from the man at the moment, and the wine certainly gave him a little too much confidence for his own good. He should just get to bed immediately, forget the whole day. Besides, he had to be up in time for tomorrow's lessons.

He made his way back toward his quarters, finding that he was far drunker than he thought. Unfortunately, walking was more of a task than he thought it would be as well. He had to lean on the walls for support, scraping along them in hopes that he would end up where he was supposed to be.

As he turned a corner, he nearly tripped over a stray goblin. He stopped in his tracks with alarm.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" he cried.

The little creature twisted its lips far to the side in exaggerated consideration as it sized up the human. Then Toby recognized the goblin.

"It's you! I haven't seen you round in a while," he drawled and instantly plopped down on the floor. "But I really appreciated the soap and clothes you brought me back then."

The goblin snorted and stuck out its tongue in a look of revulsion.

The expression on the creature's face amused Toby so much that he burst into laughter. But the sound started the goblin and it turned to bolt.

"Nooo, waaaaiit!" the youth called, controlling his laughter just enough to breathe normally.

To his surprise, the wizened being obeyed and turned back to look with doubt at the boy.

Toby smiled a drunkenly lopsided smile. "Come back. Please?"

Making a sound of hesitation in its throat, the little goblin glared at the youth before sauntering a bit closer.

"Whether you like it or not, I'm givin' you a name," Toby declared. "We're friends, so you should have one."

The goblin looked around cautiously. Satisfied that those corridors were deserted but for themselves, it too sat down and mumbled something about the strangeness of humans under its breath.

Toby studied the creature. It must have been the alcohol, but the thing actually looked cute, like a small pet of some sort. "Hmmm, so what _should_ it be?" He thought hard for a moment before an idea suddenly popped into his head. "I got it! What about Merlin?" He smiled at his suggestion. "That was my dog's name a long time ago."

"Mer-lin?" the goblin repeated with some effort.

"Yeah, and you kinda look like a Merlin," Toby said encouragingly.

"Mmm," the creature mused, staring at the boy in wonder before nodding curtly.

Laughing, Toby hugged the shocked little goblin.

"Why you do that?" it asked, obviously baffled by the action.

"'Cause, you're my friend, remember?"

"Friend?"

"Of course. We live in the same castle, right? We should be friends."

"Mmm."

Toby remembered his agreement with the lord of the castle and realized that it was getting very late. "Well Merlin, I need to get to bed. Gotta get up early and all."

"What for?"

"Your king is making me study a lot. What a drag, huh?"

The creature looked worried. "You read? Write?"

Toby frowned. "Sure. What's wrong with that?"

The goblin simply looked at Toby with a studious eye before glancing around again. It nodded once. "You be careful. You learn well."

Toby watched as the little goblin ambled down the hallway he had just traversed, too confused to say anything more. What did the creature mean? Oh well. It couldn't be of much importance.

Expelling a good deal of effort, Toby stood and continued his trek toward his room. Now that he thought about it, he was impressed with himself for having broken through the shell of at least one goblin. He wasn't sure how well they could be trusted, but if Merlin proved to be different from the others as he seemed, it would be worth the risk. Having an ally on the inside might just come in handy.

To be continued . . .

* * *

A/N: Hi again. Gra! I don't know what's with me . . . I'm wondering if I'm losing interest in this story. I do want to finish it, but I don't want it to be botched either. If you feel anything is sliding in this story at any point please let me know! Thank you everyone for reviewing the last chapter, too. If it weren't for all your encouraging comments I never would have gotten this far! {[sends love]} 


End file.
